OU Virus
by Mixedia
Summary: A man working for the CDC decides he would like to see his life's work come to fruition and watch his achievement of the world falling. 6mths later, the characters of Storeybrooke come together to eventually find a way of reversing the consequences. Super gorey descriptions, smut, death, destruction and angst from the beginning. This one really ain't for the faint hearted!
1. Chapter 1

_"The City of Washington has today released a warrant for the urgent capture of one Doctor Robert Hyde, who was last seen yesterday around 3 o'clock in the afternoon. It is believed that, although Dr Hyde has been working for the CDC on cures for some of the world's deadliest diseases, he has been undertaking unauthorised work in biochemical weaponry, research which went missing around the time Mr Hyde was last seen. If anyone has seen this man or has any idea as to his whereabouts, citizens are asked to call the number on screen now."_

 _"The City of Washington are still looking for Doctor Robert Hyde, with an increased level of warning, after a statement released by the CDC confirmed the work Dr Hyde has stolen was in fact based around a fungus called "Ophiocordyceps Unilateralis" - otherwise known as the Zombie Virus. Police are requesting if you do see this man in public, do not engage in interaction with him as he could possibly be armed and dangerous. Any sightings of Dr Hyde are to be reported into emergency services immediately for Dr Hyde's arrest."_

 _"John F. Kennedy International Airport came under scrutiny today after it was discovered Doctor Robert Hyde boarded a plane without alarm being raised. Video footage here shows Dr Hyde handing over illegally forged documentation and identification allowing him to board the plane and leave the country. The hunt for Doctor Hyde has now been raised to World Wide as United States government call for his arrest, not only in connection to the missing research on Ophiocordyceps Unilateralis, but also for illegal forgery of documentation and fraudulent activity. Although it is confirmed the work he stole is highly dangerous, no-one really knows what he plans to do with the information and so as a precaution, you are requested to stay away from this man once again and if you see him please contact your emergency service department."_

 _"Panic struck Las Vegas, Nevada, last night as an unauthorised weapons test was carried out in the desert outside the city. No-one knows where the explosion came from and luckily there have been no reports of people injured as of yet. Nevada Police are requesting people to stay within the city limits and to not try entering the outskirts until the source of the explosion has been confirmed and secured."_

 _"Pripyat, in Northern Ukraine has seen no activity since the disaster in 1986 rendered it a ghost town - that is until yesterday when an explosion similar to the one seen on the outskirts of Las Vegas 2 days ago. Over the last week, blasts have been confirmed in Semipalatinsk, Kazakhstan, Mururoa Atoll, in the territory of French Polynesia as well as a number of other nuclear weapons testing areas. So far, no casualties or deaths have been caused, but all sites hit have said they are not currently testing any weapons and all report rockets from outside sources as the cause of the explosions. Meanwhile, Police in Sydney, Australia have issued a warning as they now believe the still missing Doctor Robert Hyde may be hiding somewhere within the city."_

 _"The CDC and WHO have issued a warning for anyone experiencing the following symptoms: High fever, vomiting, migraines, muscle spasms or bleeding from the eyes, ears or nose. People presenting with these symptoms are asked to report to A &E, quoting "OU suspect". If this option is not immediately available, members of the public are requested to please find a way of keeping isolated to try and stop the spread of the virus."_

Leaning on the counter at her grandmother's diner, Ruby Lucas showed no shame in cracking the occasional giant pink bubble from the bubblegum she was chewing. Legs crossed behind her to hide a little of her modesty in the micro-length skirt she was wearing, she grabbed hold of the remote control for the tiny, ancient, television that was mounted to the wall in the corner of the diner and turned the volume up to see what new catastrophe the news was reporting on this time.

"Since when did you pay attention to the news, Ruby Red?" Tink grinned as she deposited a stack of dirty plates into the window separating the main dining space from the kitchen.  
"Since she blew your mom, now hurry up, Christina, order up!" Dorothy commanded through the window, swapping the dirty plates for two fresh orders of fried breakfast. Ruby absent-mindedly scoffed at the two as she continued watching the horrors unfolding on the screen before her.  
"Pretty gruesome, don't you think?" Ruby's Granny mumbled by Ruby's side, her face falling from the smile she had shot her girls at their good-natured bickering to one of sympathy for the people on screen.  
"Got that right." Ruby replied, wincing, as she watched someone in the background of the news report lose a large chunk of flesh to a man with white, sickly-looking eyes and veins that seemed to glow black in an ethereal sort of way.  
"Any of you girls get a fever or any of them other symptoms, you tell me." Granny told her, picking up a bottle of disinfectant and spraying a clean cloth to within an inch of its life. "They say it takes a couple of days for that thing to kill you, but it's gonna take these old bones that long to dig your grave in our garden so I'd like a head start."

Anyone who didn't know Granny would have been offended by her comment, but Ruby snorted at the joke, cracking one more pink bubble before turning round with her own wash cloth to get the coffee machine back to the sparkling perfection Granny liked.

"Hey Red, turn the channel over would you? I'm trying to eat without imagining rotten flesh flavoured bacon and eggs thanks!" Shouted one of the patrons from the booths, earning himself a sneer from Ruby before she grabbed the remote and turned the channel over to some kids programme, causing most of the diner to groan as the cheerful tinkling music filled the space and a child half way down the room squealed in delight, clapping his hands along with the beat.

"Those images they keep showing really are gross." Milah Gold stated, twisting her head round so she could view the screen on the chest of drawers at the other end of the room.  
"You know," Killian Jones replied to her, lifting himself off her a little so he could both speak with her and wrap a hand around her breast, pinching the nipple a little in annoyance, "any other man would be put off by a woman paying more attention to the news than to the God above her working her to mind-blowing orgasm. But me? I love a challenge."

Milah giggled. "Please," she replied, looking back at him and quirking an eyebrow, ignoring the way he managed to hit the exact spot inside her she needed him to and biting down the gasp so she could carry on teasing him. "Any other woman would think it's not so much a God as my husband attempting to make me feel something right now."

With a roar, he hoisted her up and flipped her round so her back was pressed against him, her hand flung back so she could cling to the fine hairs at the nape of his neck behind her while his one hand moved up to anchor her by her breast and the other slid down, down to her pink folds and began to rub harsh circles around the nub of nerves, causing her to keen and gasp at the new angle and his added attentions.

"Don't you ever," Killian growled in her ear, "Compare me to that wet weed of a man. He could never," He punctuated the sentence with a jerk up of his hips and a nip to both her clit and nipple, "Pleasure you the way I could. Now, on your knees, woman. Enough zombie infestation and more screaming." He demanded her, pushing her forward so she was on all fours, gripping her long hair in the way he knew she liked it and pounding into her so hard; her mewling and cries were heard way above the volume of the news anchor talking about the spread of the infection and how millions of people were now showing the symptoms. Neither paid attention though as the waves of their combined climax crashed over them, the crescendo making them both see nothing but white.

_

Mary Margaret Nolan pushed her trolley to park it in front of the nurse's station, nothing left on there but a few lonely petals that had fallen from the flowers she had been distributing to the people in the ward she volunteered at. She had been about to greet her friends there, until she noticed all the nurses watching a television screen avidly behind the desk.

"What's going on?" She asked, nervously, seeing the looks of shock and horror on their faces. Only Mother Superior looked up, her face pale and eyes wide.  
"Come take a look." She told Mary Margaret, shuffling closer to the other sisters so Mary Margaret could get a better view of the screen, her gasp the only sound in the ward as her hand flew to her mouth.  
"It's getting worse." Choked one of the other sisters, a stray tear dripping down her cheek.  
"It's alright, it's a ways away yet. It probably won't even reach this far." Another sister told her, a gentle hand placed on the first sister's arm to try and give some semblance of comfort.  
"That's not the point though, is it? I wish there was something we could do." Groaned the first nurse, scrubbing at her eyes to try and dry some of the moisture there.

Mary Margaret schooled her face into the best comforting, kindly smile she could. "Well, all we can do for the time being is offer our prayers for these people and as soon as a charity becomes available for us to donate to, we will do just that." She declared to the visible relief of a few o the nurses and a few "Right!"'s and "Absolutely!"'s.  
"At this rate, there won't be anyone left to create a charity for us to send to." Mumbled the same sister, pointedly ignoring the lash of warning Mary Margaret shot to her, before she turned her seat and walked away, picking up a patient's chart as she did.  
"That's enough television for one day, I think, Sisters." Mother Superior told them, clapping her hands and looking round. "When did anyone last check bed 14 to make sure he is fine for pain relief? And has anyone been to give bed 2 their next antibiotic dose? Does bed 20 still have fluid in their IV or is it getting close to empty? Come along, Sisters, back to it please." With that, the station was filled with the noise of nurses chattering to one another, comparing notes and rustling paper, loud, bright voices began to filter in from various patient's rooms as the nurses checked on the patients in their care.

Mother Superior turned to Mary Margaret with a warm, caring smile on her face.  
"Mary Margaret, I don't know what we would do without you. The flowers today are beautiful and always help to brighten the spirits of those you deliver to."  
"I always do whatever I can, Mother Superior, you know that." Mary Margaret replied with a large smile of her own. The two women embraced tightly, before holding one another at arm's length once again.  
"You're absolutely right, though, those people need our love and prayers, they will certainly be in mine this coming Sunday." The older lady told her friend.  
"Mine too. But your Sister was also right. If I hear anything about charities asking for donations of money, blankets or whatever else, shall I call you and let you know the details?"  
"Oh please do! We would be honoured to provide any assistance we can, of course. Now, be off with you! It's time you were home with your husband, getting rest. It's a school night you know?"  
"Don't I know it!" Mary Margaret laughed back, remembering the class she had to teach again tomorrow.

Bidding farewell, she stepped into the nearest elevator and made her way downstairs and towards the car park. Heading out of the front door, she waved at another one of the Sisters as they entered the hospital, a frown pinching her brow a little as she took in the flush sitting high on the Sister's cheeks and the thin sheen of sweat that shone under the fluorescent lights of the hospital. She was about to stop and say something, but then the moment had passed, the Sister entering the elevator Mary Margaret had just left and she herself being on the other side of the door. Shrugging, she turned back to the car park to find her own car, knowing that if something were really wrong with the Sister, Mother Superior would pick on it fairly quickly and send the Sister back to their convent for rest.

_

Marian Locksley sighed heavily once again. Looking down at her slightly rounded mid-section, she lovingly ran a hand over it, allowing a flicker of a smile tug the corner of her lips as the child within caused a flutter to stir deep within. In the background, her 4 year old son hummed a tune to himself, colouring well outside the lines in his favourite colouring book, but not seeming to care in the least. So long as he was entertained, happy and staying quiet, that is all Marian really asked.

The metallic scrape of a key in the door pulled her from her thoughts as her husband stumbled in, arms full of bags of all shapes and sizes.  
"The store is absolute chaos at the moment. Anyone would think it was the end of the world!" Robin told his wife with a grin, depositing the bags on the table in their dining space.  
"Darling, it is the end of the world." She contradicted him, gesturing outside. "Have you not seen it out there? It' not just the stores that are in chaos."  
"Darling, I've been out there." He countered, coming over to press a kiss to the top of her head. "It's honestly not as bad as the media make it out to be. Of course everything is over dramatic on TV, they wouldn't sell stories if they didn't ham it up a bit."  
"You're not fooling me." She retorted back, pulling herself off the window seat and striding over to the table to rifle through the bags. "I don't want to stay here, Robin, I want to move away from all this. If not for my own peace of mind then for the safety of Roland and the baby."  
"Low blow, my dear, using the children for your argument." He chided her, softly, reaching into one of the bags to pass her the bag of carrots he knew she was seeking - a craving of hers since about the 10th week of her pregnancy. "Besides, I am thinking of the baby. We came out here for relaxation and rest, away from home and work. Don't you wish to stay somewhere you can relax, especially while growing our next little bundle of joy?"  
"But we're not in a place we can relax, Robin. This virus started in Las Vegas, that's only a couple of hours down the road and you said it yourself this place is in chaos now." She told him, allowing a little of her fear and anger to seep into her tone. "We are so close to what they are calling the "danger zone", I don't feel safe. I just want to be home. If we want to get home, we'll have to set off soon, Las Vegas airport has already shut down, I don't suppose it'll be long before they all are and we'll be stranded here."

Robin looked into his wife's fear filled eyes. The moisture there and her voice were enough to put a shard through his heart and break down what little resolve he had. Truth was, he had been trying to convince himself that these arguments were unfounded since the beginning, but hearing them from Marian's mouth sealed the deal for him.  
"Alright, love. Pack your bags, let's get home." Robin told her with a soft smile, anything to see the relief that swept across his wife's features at his words.

Marian was quick on the uptake, immediately rushing over to Roland and asking him to stand with her, grabbing bits on the way to the bedroom so she could pack their bags.  
Robin huffed a laugh as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket, dialling the number for the Lake Havasu City Airport to reschedule their flight. But after a stressful 30 minute conversation with the ticket desk on the other end, he was informed that this airport too had also closed down, stating the OU virus as the reason. Marian's face fell as he explained what had happened, Roland on her hip silent and snuggling closer into his mother as the tension in the air grew.

"What about Los Angeles? Have they closed the airport there?" Marian asked him, hoisting Roland a little higher.  
"Love, that's a 4, maybe even 5 hour car journey from here." Robin told her, his instinct to run warring with his instinct to keep his pregnant wife exactly where she was and in the least stressful position he could, especially this early on in the pregnancy.  
"I don't care." She told him, bluntly, stepping forward in determination. "Robin, I want to be home."  
"Alright, fine!" He told her, holding his hands up in an appeasing manner, as he began punching in the numbers he had found on the internet for Los Angeles airport.

Within the hour, they were booked onto a flight back to Boston leaving in 8 hours. Watching Marian walk out of the room with Roland on her hip and a rolling case being dragged behind her, he pinched the bridge of his nose and held his breath for a few moments, praying to the powers above his wife would be able to handle both the long car journey and the flight without miscarrying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1 - 6 months later**  
Neal Cassidy's feet pounded hard on the street as he ran, squeezing his eyes shut to try and ignore the feeling of terror that was twisting his belly as he listened to the snarling coming from what used to be a person behind him. That, he thought, was the worst part in all this - the creatures they had to run from all used to be people. The half-rotten guy that was chasing him down the street would have been someone's son, someone's brother, cousin, father; whoever he was he would have had family at one point, friends. The fact he was chasing Neal this fast means he was probably a marathon runner, the infected usually taking on some trait they had had in life. Those that had once run in life, could now run in death, the weight lifters taking on super strength, the couch potatoes usually lying in wait for prey to walk past so they could spring, the quiet people now lurking round every corner, silent as a whisper until they sank their teeth into living flesh, the loud ones screaming and alerting every infected in the area know that the blood still ran untainted in your veins.

At least he could give them this much - before the outbreak, Neal had been an average kind of guy. The only running he did was from the cops after his sticky fingers were caught on the way out of a store. But officers, he had two very lovely ladies at home he had to feed and with such a lack of jobs going how else was he supposed to provide or them? He would say, fighting the laugh that bubbled up the back of his throat as he kept his eyes trained on the cops face and desperately trying not to watch Lily Page deftly relieve the officer of his wallet, or Emma Swan ducked down and carefully tying the officer's laces all together in the biggest knot she could manage so when they eventually did make a run for it, laughing loud and free as they watched the cops fall to their faces behind them, they could make a clean getaway.

Now, though, pulling the same trick would almost certainly end up in Neal being the one to lose his face as some ex-human tore into him, his screams of pain probably causing every infected in the area to chase after his girls and damn-it, he would not be the cause of his girls getting infected too. He tried, hell did he try, to convince the girls to stay within the abandoned house they had been holed up in the last few days so they would stay safe and out of the way while he scrounged food from whatever stash he could find - old grocery stores, houses that hadn't yet been picked clean, school cafeterias - wherever might have food, Neal had picked clean as soon as he discovered it. But his girls were a pair of hurricanes - Lily, quick on her feet and silent as a dart as she rushed into whatever new building they found to pick clean and Emma, cunning as a fox as she pointed out what buildings others would not have thought to check, finding secret stashes others that were now infected would have left behind and bring it all back to share between them.

Their friendship had been tenuous at first, to say the least. Emma had met Neal as she attempted to steal the car he had already stolen, the two laughing when they realised both were orphaned thieves just trying to make it through the world when there was still a world to make it through. Lily had joined the group when the two had made a blundering error and almost got their sticky fingers caught up in the shackles of one particularly fierce store-owner. Emma had tried to use her cunning on the old man, but her technique was fast failing, until Lily's quick feet had taken her round the back of the counter, stealing the wad of dollar notes she spied sitting in the open drawer. Lily had run past the store-owner, Emma twisting out of his grip causing him to fatally pause while Neal had made his getaway, the three exiting together, roaring their victory down the road.

It took a while for the trio to all trust one another completely. Lily managed to convince Emma and Neal to follow her to a house she knew was a summer house nearby and so was empty at that time of year. They had settled down and after much deliberation, worked out what they thought was a fair system of splitting their winnings between the three of them. But with such a new friendship, it was a few days before any of them actually got any real sleep. After 3 years of watching each other's backs, protecting one another and some very deep conversations; the 3 were now inseparable. No-one could really remember when Neal had started referring to the two as "his girls", but the way his mouth pulled into a smug grin and his walk gained a more confident swagger whenever he did so had both girls giggling to one another and neither really minded.

Neal's heart flew up into his throat, pumping a fast rhythm in time with his feet as the snarls and unholy sounds behind him seemed to grow louder and closer. Begging his legs to move faster, he opened his eyes just in time to see something small and yellow roll across the road in front of him.  
"Duck?" He asked himself as he noticed the rubber duck hit the kerb on the opposite side of the road, a forlorn squeak sounding as it made impact, causing the pieces to click into place in his mind. "Oh! Duck!" He shouted as he bent at the waist, his hands shooting up to above his head in protection as he heard a whoosh above him, then the satisfying thunk of something hitting home. Slowing down and turning, he saw the lithe muscles in Lily's back contracting into themselves, the red fire axe in her arm finishing it's deadly curve in the rotten skull of the infected that had been chasing him for so long.

"I get it! Duck!" He called to her, amusement in his voice as he ambled over to help her dislodge the axe from the skull, feeling his heart swell at her responding giggle.  
"Yeah, Neal, duck! Or I wouldn't have been able to sink into this guy." Lily laughed, looking up at him with a huge grin on her face. "Welcome home, stranger."  
"Hey, I was only gone a day." He rebuked, picking the duck up off the side of the road and swaggering back over to her, his arms out wide so she could bury herself in his embrace, breathing deep at his neck.  
"We were worried, though." She mumbled, relief dripping off every word.  
"Ah, but you'll be pleased when you see what I brought you." He told her, tucking her in under his arm, as they made their way back to the house they had claimed for the time being.

Entering the front door, he was not at all surprised to see Emma sitting on the floor of the lounge area, a huge map spread in front of her with a look of concentration on her face.  
"Hey Ems, duck!" Neal shouted joyfully, throwing the duck into her line of vision and laughing at her jump half a foot off the ground in surprise, causing Lily to double over with giggles of her own.  
"You goof!" She crowed back, throwing the duck back at him and hitting him squarely in the chest as Lily closed the door behind them and replaced the 2 by 4 they had pinned against the doorframe for more support just in case. "Where the hell have you been?" She demanded, with no real bite to her voice, carefully stepping round the map to press her lips to his.

"Bringing presents for the most beautiful girls in all the world." Neal told them both, grinning as he dug a huge sharing bar of chocolate out of his pocket and wiggling it in the air, smiling as he watched the expressions of delight and excitement grow on both girls faces.

"Oh my God, Neal!" Emma screamed as she jumped up, trusting him to catch her by her thighs which she was quick to wrap around his waist as she crashed her lips against his once more, pushing her tongue in to explore his mouth desperately, even as they were both aware of Lily snatching the chocolate from his hand and snapping off the first row, popping them in her mouth and groaning at the luxurious flavour melting over her taste buds.  
"Hey, save some for me." Emma told her, even as Neal pressed closer so she was talking into his mouth, causing the words to be muffled.  
"Snooze you lose, Ems." Lily grinned a predatory grin at her, sauntering away with an exaggerated sway of her hips. "Looks like you got a mouthful over there anyway."

With a wiggle and a push, Emma was soon back on her own two feet and the girls were chasing one another round the house, squealing whenever the chocolate changed hands.  
"Try not to be too loud, girls." Neal called to them as he tilted his head to the side to study the map Emma had been working on. "Don't wanna go inviting a hoard over to our doorstep." He smiled as he took in Emma's work, the colour coding becoming a little brown and messy in the areas they had visited often enough that nothing was left to scavenge. But as he paid closer attention, he realised their pickings were beginning to get dangerous slim for the next 5 miles. His excursions out to find food and other essentials took longer and longer, thinking back to how he had just been away for 24 hours to get hold of a single bar of chocolate, 2 tins of tuna and a single tin of baked beans. "This ain't good." He sighed to himself, running a hand over his scruffy chin, crouching down to get a better look, eyes roving over the map for what to do next.

"You seen it too, huh?" Emma asked him, crouching down next to him and resting her head against his shoulder. "What are we gonna do?"  
"I dunno." He relied quietly, turning to press a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. Lily wandered over and plopped herself down at the other side of the map, her cheeks full in a hamster like manner with chocolate.  
"Simple," She stated round her mouthful, "We kill them all."  
"Kill them all?" Emma repeated, quirking an eyebrow up at her sceptically.  
"Yeah, easier said than done, Lils." Neal grinned back, moving his feet from under him so he was sat on the floor too, digging a hand into his coat pocket and holding out one of the tuna tins for Emma at her mewl of indignation of her pillow suddenly a foot further down than it had been.  
"You know, just because you can make me purr doesn't actually make me a cat." She grumbled as she sat down next to him, huffing out an air of annoyance as he gave her nose a tiny lick.  
"Guys, ew, gross." Lily told them, stuffing the chocolate back in her pocket and swallowing the stash she had in her cheeks.

"Nah, come on girls, this is serious. What are we gonna do?" Neal asked them both as Emma cracked into the tin of tuna, digging her fingers in to pull a lump out and shove it into her own mouth, smiling about having something to eat again, even if it was just tuna fish.  
"And I'm serious too!" Lily replied, wrapping her arms round her knees. "I somehow don't see us surviving this apocalypse, so why not go out in a blaze of glory and take as many infected goo-bags as we can?"  
"Lils, eating." Emma retorted, trying not to think of rotten infected flesh burning up as she shovelled tuna into her mouth. "Although I do agree with her." She mentioned as an afterthought.  
"Really?" Neal spat out, looking from one girl to the other, "You two have honestly given up on life already? After 6 months?"  
"Try 3 years, dude." Lily cut in. "I mean, yeah, the infected has only been a real issue for 6 months, but it's not like we had much of a life to begin with. What, you're telling me you liked sneaking into abandoned houses, stealing whatever we could get away with taking from shop shelves, constantly being on the run from the po-po?"  
"What I think she means is," Emma interrupted, setting the empty can aside and licking her fingers, "I don't know how life could get any better than this and as much as I love hanging out with you guys, running round, fighting the undead and whatever, can you imagine still doing this when we're 50? 80 even? I don't know about you guys, but I may have been an orphan as a kid, that doesn't mean I don't want to try for a family of my own some day and in this world? That's not going to happen."  
"There's nothing left for us to aim for." Lily sighed, allowing the defeat and sadness into her voice. "We're never going to live again, we're just surviving. That's not a world I want to be in much longer. But there are people out there we could help, people that will be able to live again and we can help out so much by taking down as many of these sons-of-bitches as we can before we give up the ghost and join them."

Neal was silent for a long time. Lily and Emma, realising they had given him a lot to think about, decided to sit in silence, all three lost in their own thoughts - about the past, the lives they used to live, the present and the current horrors that had become the norm, and the future or the lack thereof.

"I was gonna try find my Papa." Neal finally said, the broken way his words came out gripping both girls hearts. Emma wound an arm around him, trying to give whatever comfort she could.  
"He might already be one of them." Lily told him, gently, sadness clouding her eyes.  
"Lily -" Emma tried to tell her off, but Neal stopped her.  
"No, Ems, she's right. He could be one of the undead. Hell, he might even just be dead period. So what's the point? My mission could just end with the two of you getting injured, or worse. I couldn't live with myself if that happened. If you two want to help other survivors by killing as many infected as we can and bringing the number of enemies down, then I am up for it. I'll join you, if you'll have me."  
"Of course we'll have you, Neal." Lily told him, scooting round so she could cuddle up to his other side, pleased her words had got him to understand where she was coming from, hating that they were the reason for the tear tracks now down his cheeks.  
"We'll all have each other." Emma added, tightening her arm around Neal's back and reaching her other hand in front of him to grasp Lily's. They decided to spend that night, cuddled up to one another for one last time, resigning themselves to the end that would surely come when they abandoned their safe haven tomorrow, together.

All the men in their apartment block had decided that bringing the women on supply runs would be dangerous, the husbands knowing they would be distracted by worry for their wives, the single men wanting to show off a little. A few women cried when the declaration was made, begging their husbands to return to them safely, telling them not to care about how much they could carry so long as they got home. Most had accepted it with a steely resolve, knowing their men would use whatever common sense they had to get back. Milah Gold had all but pushed her husband out the door, telling him to stop being such a coward and make her proud by bringing back the biggest haul of food any of them had ever seen, even as she shot a saucy wink over his shoulder towards her lover. Killian winked right back, trying his hardest to bite back the smug grin that tried to bubble to the surface as he remembered some of Milah's more choice curses towards her husband.

It was a memory he was once again struggling to think of as he and Gold crouched down behind some shelves in a nearby convenience store, both with bulging pockets filled with stale bread, tins of whatever they could get their hands on and, much to Killian's delight, a couple of packets of condoms. Birth control this side of the outbreak was becoming neigh on impossible to procure, so condoms he knew would become a highly demanded commodity very soon.

The two men panted as quietly as they could, turning slightly so they could watch the gruesome shuffle of a pair of infecteds shuffle into the store and right past where they were hiding.  
"Oh Gods, now what?" Gold muttered, his voice cracking slightly on his fear.  
"Simple," Killian replied, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, using his hearing to try and locate where the two had got to in the store. "We're going to have to make a run for it. If we're quiet, maybe they won't hear and follow us."  
"You're delusional if you think we have a chance at all of sneaking past them." Gold whimpered back. He was pressed so close to Killian's side that the younger man could actually feel the tremors running through his body.  
"Ah, don't think of it like that, Gold, Mate," Killian chastised as silently as he could. "We're not running from flesh eating infecteds, we're running towards the beautiful women waiting back at the tower for us." He continued before twisting his body round and placing one of his hands on the shelf behind them to keep him steady as he looked through the gap at where the infected had positioned themselves.  
"Oh yeah? And what beautiful woman is waiting back there for you, exactly?" Asked Gold with a confused shake of his head.  
"Why, all of them of course." Killian replied, staying in the same position but looking over at Gold with a huge grin on his face. "Why would I be so rude as to limit this beauty..." He used his other hand to gesture to his own body, chest puffing out a little to accentuate his over-grown egotistical statement, "to just one? That would be a crime to all woman-kind."

At that moment, Killian felt something brush against his hand and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Turning back to the shelf in horror, he saw the infected take hold of his hand, raise it up to their lips and bite down hard enough to break skin and muscle, teeth sliding to create a total mess when they made contact with bone. Killian's hearing had dwindled down to the loud roar of his heartbeat as it dawned on him that this meant he was infected too, now, only a matter of time before he became one of the moaning, drooling infected messes that had taken over the city.

The horror was still taking over his brain when, from the side of him, the silver glint of a knife came into view and before he could even take note the direction it was moving, it had sliced through his hand at the wrist, severing the now damaged and mangled limb from the still healthy flesh of his forearm. For half a moment, all he could register was how impressed he was that Gold had managed to hack through his arm clean in one go, the amputation neat and precise, before the pain slammed into him, waves of scorching hot electricity screaming up his arm and down his spine, his entire body setting alight and letting him know something terrible had just happened to him.

Then, time was back to normal, the infected retreating with its prize of Killian's left hand, Gold gripping the top of his right arm and shouting in his ear to bloody run for it, as fast as they could manage. The pain crashing through him had turned his stomach, nausea drowning him but somehow he grit his teeth and kept all sound and vomiting at bay, refusing to cry his agony out when they were still in so much danger, still surrounded by the undead. Gripping the arm Gold thrust in front of him and using the older man's help to haul his body up and out of the store, the two moved as fast as possible back to their apartment block and up the first few flights of stairs.

"Gold, what the hell do you think you're doing? He's infected!" One of the women cried as they crested the final staircase, pointing in horror at Killian, who had his right arm slung over Gold's neck, Gold practically carrying him by the arm wrapped round his back.  
"It was his hand." Gold panted as they made it to the crowd, dropping Killian to the floor, who rolled on his back and finally let out a pain filled roar, clutching what was left of his left arm to his body. "I cut it off, though. There was about 5 seconds between him getting bit and me cutting it off."

One of the other women pushed forward, kneeling down by Killian's head and stroking his sweat-soaked hair off his head, green rising in her cheeks at the sight of so much blood leaking out of his arm.  
"What do we do?" She whispered, desperately looking up at the others.  
"We need to stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down." Another woman shouted from the back.  
"Here, use this." Came another voice and the sound of fabric tearing even louder than Killian's groans of pain.

"Gold what were you thinking?" Milah gasped, pushing to the front and looking down at Killian on the floor. "Why did you do this to him?"  
"He was infected, Milah." Gold replied, his voice not sounding as sure as it had earlier. "It was let him die or cut it off, what choice did I have?" Milah spun on her heel, fire in her eyes.  
"You should have let him die!" She growled back, taking a step closer to him, "He doesn't deserve this. You've condemned him to a life of pain and suffering and for what? Because you didn't want to be left out there on your own? That's it, isn't it? You're a bloody coward, that's what you are."  
"Milah, please!" A portly man in a red woollen hat begged her, collecting all the torn fabric people were handing him and kneeling down by the wound, pushing back the clothing in the way and starting to use the rags to tie a tourniquet around the arm's stump, tying it as tight as possible to try and stop the bleeding. Although it did help a little, the pain was so intense that Killian could no longer hold onto his breakfast and had to let it spill all over the floor. From the back of the crowd, a mother forcefully told her children that was enough excitement for one day and began ushering them back towards their apartment, other women turning their faces away, wincing in sympathy and trying to hold onto their own stomachs of food.

As the man in the hat, a quiet single man who lived opposite Killian, named Smee, tied the last knot in the tourniquet as tight as he could manage, Killian once again let a roar of pain escape to try and deal with what was happening inside his body, to deal with the rush of hormones desperately trying to make him choose flight instead of fight, his brain warring with his own body about whether he should be allowing this onslaught of pain continue while he simply reacted with shock - bullets of sweat appearing and pooling beneath him, his breath coming out in short, sharp pants almost in time with his racing heart and finally, blissfully, he just let go, slipping into unconsciousness.

In the background, another scream ripped through the air in answer, this one far less human and far more sinister.


	3. Chapter 3

Mary Margaret froze on the spot. She had heard the sounds of a man in great amounts of pain coming from very close by, but as he went quiet so quickly she assumed he had died that way too. Once his roars had subsided, she thought they had just about got away with it, until he had let out another roar of pain. She wished desperately she knew where he was, if only so she could end his misery quickly and not leave him to be feasted upon by the infected, but she had her own mission that she needed to focus on.

Then the feral, ethereal scream had sounded, fairly close and bone-chillingly horrifying. There was only one creature in the world that could make that noise and Mary Margaret was well aware of what it would mean. She felt all the blood rush from her face as she turned to see if she could see the creature.  
"Oh flubs." She muttered to herself, looking round to see if she could find shelter. All she saw, however, were shop fronts with large panes of glass missing that wouldn't be able to keep a toddler out, let alone the hoard of infected that were almost certainly heading her way now.

"Neal, come on! We have to stay ahead of them!" She heard coming from the direction the scream had been in and, turning to look once again, saw a group of 3 running towards her. All she could really discern in the time it took them to run past her was that the group was of 2 women and a man, one girl with flowing golden locks, the other a brunette with a skinny, athletic body and a man pulling up the rear, fear clouding his face.  
"Hey, come with us!" Shouted the blonde as the three flew past, grabbing Mary Margaret's arm and dragging her along.

Then came the sound Mary Margaret had been dreading, the snarling, snapping and growling crescendo that signalled the infected, a lot of the infected, racing down the street to capture any person still alive. Mary Margaret and the three others ran as fast and as hard as they could, but her and the blonde had fallen a ways behind due to the pause it had taken for Mary Margaret to catch up to speed and start running too, even if it had been only a second.  
"Oh God!" Mary Margaret whimpered as she ran, thinking of her husband back at the camp. She hadn't told any of them she was going, knowing they would try and talk her out of her plan, but they needed the supplies she had been heading towards desperately. They had already lost so much, she wasn't willing to just sit around and wait to lose anything else.

"This way!" The blonde gasped to her, pulling her arm once again and leading them into an alleyway with a wall cutting off their path, causing a dead end.  
"Now what?" She cried, watching the blonde who was already scrabbling at the wall, pulling herself up and flinging one leg over the top.  
"Come on." She demanded from her vantage point, holding a hand down for Mary Margaret to grab, "Those things can't climb." Praying her fitness level was enough to make it to the top in time, Mary Margaret took the blondes hand and, working together, hauled her to the top so she could sit facing the other woman.

Panting heavily, they watched as a broken off bunch of the infected followed them down the alleyway, but couldn't help laughing together when they realised the hoard could not reach them from their resting place. Mary Margaret gained her composure first, turning to her new ally.  
"I'm Mary Margaret Nolan." She told her, still huffing the odd laugh of relief.  
"Emma Swan." The blonde replied, a great grin on her own face matching Mary Margaret's. "What on Earth were you doing out here on your own? Did the rest of your group not make it or something?" She asked, her face no longer jolly, sympathy and sadness taking its place.  
"Oh gosh, no." Mary Margaret smiled a reassuring smile. "I've come from a shelter a couple of towns over. One of the guys is really sick - not infected sick - we think he has a kidney infection or something. He needs antibiotics and pain relief, but we don't have any at our shelter and the hospital nearby was already cleared out when we settled there. I was heading to Boston Medical Centre to get medicine, anything I can carry, you know, just in case, when the screamer sounded. What about you? What were the three of you doing running down the street? Oh my gosh, we lost your friends! What are you going to do? Do you have a meet up point?"  
"Oh, Neal and Lily can look after themselves, they'll be fine. No meet up point though." Emma replied, glaring down at the hoard trying to reach them, deep in thought. "I'm sure we'll meet up again at some point. We never really had a plan of action, pretty much just decided we were going to try and kill as many of those things as we could while we still can."

Mary Margaret frowned at that, not sure she liked the direction of Emma's thoughts, but knowing it wasn't really her place to say anything against it. Emma's eyes had already alighted on a nearby fire escape iron staircase, sending a mischievous grin Mary Margaret's way before swinging her other leg over the wall away from the infected and using the leverage to jump from the wall to the stairwell.  
"Emma!" Mary Margaret cried in surprise, her hand outstretched as if to try and save her, before breathing a sigh of relief as the blonde landed neatly on her feet and clung to the hand rail of the stairwell.

"Gimme a sec!" Emma called back, sprinting down the stairs and over to one of the dumpsters in the new alleyway, checking inside. Happy with whatever it was she found in there, she rolled it over to just underneath Mary Margaret. "Okay, you should be alright to jump down and onto this thing."

"You want me to jump onto the bin?" Mary Margaret repeated back, scrunching her nose up in disgust. Emma looked up and nodded, no sign of a joke on her face.  
"Yeah. The bin's full of paper, take out cartons and stuff. Even if you fall through the lid you shouldn't hurt yourself too badly."  
"Emma, that's disgusting!"  
"Look, that screamer didn't just bring a couple of infected this way and although they can't climb places, they can sure as hell turn corners. Pretty soon you'll have them on both sides of the wall and then you'll be stranded. These things don't give up easily so you'll be stuck there a long while. It's either gross bin landing or getting eaten. Your choice."

Groaning at how much sense Emma's logic made, Mary Margaret took a deep breath in, squeezed her eyes and mouth shut as tight as she could, then swung her leg over the wall and let herself fall into the bin beneath her. The lid did indeed give out under her weight and the momentum of her fall, but as Emma said, the landing was made much easier by the soft contents within.  
"You alright?" Emma asked her, leaning over and once again offering her hand to help pull Mary Margaret out of her landing place.  
"Yeah," She replied, pulling herself out with Emma's help, scrunching her nose at the state her clothes were now in. "I think I sat in mustard."

Emma's laugh was a silver bell in the misery surrounding them, bright and cheerful as she reached into the bin for a mostly unused tissue to wipe the offending stain off Mary Margaret's clothes, causing Mary Margaret to let out a pathetic little chuckle as the funny side of the situation washed over her.

"So, Boston MC, huh?" Emma finally stated, tossing the tissue back in the bin and rubbing her hands together. "Pretty sure it's this way, come on."  
"Wait, wait, Emma you don't have to come with me." Mary Margaret said, putting a hand on her new friend's shoulder, worry in her gaze. "I mean, what about your friends? They might need you."  
"Like I said, Neal and Lily can look after themselves." Emma told her confidently. "With the number of infected that came down the street, it's going to take a while to clear out and I don't have a chance of finding them until that lot has moved on. So I might as well come help you at the hospital, then come back and look for them once the crowd has cleared."  
"Well, if you insist." Mary Margaret shrugged, once again struggling to find a way of arguing against her.

Carefully and silently, the two women poked their head around the corner of the alleyway and, although the street had a few infected milling around, they didn't see anything anywhere near as terrifying as the hoard they had escaped from.  
"If we stay silent we should be able to outmanoeuvre them." Emma whispered over her shoulder. "Come on, this way."

The apartment block went silent as they heard the scream ring out over the city. It took a whole minute after the sound before anyone said anything.  
"We can't stay here." Gold declared, fighting against the way his voice wanted to wobble in terror. "The place will be over-run in no time. We have to leave. Now."  
"Jones is in shock." Smee said, voice thick with worry. "He's lost a fair amount of blood. I know some basic first aid but this? I don't even know where to start."  
"Then we need to find him a doctor." Milah stated as though it was the most obvious choice in the world.  
"And where do you propose we find one, Milah? In a hospital?" One of the women snapped back, head whipping from the group in front of her to outside and back again.  
"You were all for your husband leaving him for dead a minute ago, Milah." Another woman retorted, "Maybe we should do just that. Let's leave him. We can get away faster without his dead weight."  
"I won't leave him." Milah ground out, her eyes flashing anger at the woman.  
"Aye, me neither." Smee agreed, standing up and coming to stand beside her.

"Your funeral." Someone muttered and with that, the whole group dispersed, going to gather their basic belongings ready to make a run for it.  
"Milah, you can't be serious." Gold asked her incredulously, looking down at Jone's unconscious form, his clothes mostly stained red with blood and the stump of his arm still leaking a little.

"We need to do something to stop the bleeding completely." Smee told Milah, "That tourniquet is already sodden, if it gets caught on anything it won't be hard to get off at all, then he'll be bleeding out again."  
"You're right." Milah replied, crouching down and brushing her hand down Killian's face. "We need to make a stretcher to carry him out. Got any ideas?"  
"I have a hammock in my apartment." Smee suggested, already heading back that way to go get it.  
"Of course you do." Gold groaned, rolling his eyes. "Can you believe some of the people we live with?" He asked Milah, a joking note to his tone. She didn't even look at him.

"Look, why don't you make yourself useful and go pack a bag for us. Food cans, water, weapons, spare clothes, whatever you get fit in there. You're right, we can't stay here." She bit out to him, her attention still entirely focused on the man on the floor. Gold was taken aback, unsure where her attitude had come from but knowing he didn't like it. He also knew it was pointless to argue with her, though, especially now when the danger was so close and so, spinning on his heels, he went to pack as she requested.

It took nearly 10 minutes for Smee and Milah to wrap the hammock around Killian's body, the two agreeing they would be the ones to carry him to safety and deciding that safety was the woodland area just outside of the city. One of the other men that had returned when the scream sounded told them he had a jeep outside, much to their relief, and he was happy to carry Killian and whoever else wanted to get away to safety. So working quickly together, they managed to stumble down the stairs, out of the foyer of the apartment building and into the jeep, but not before the first few infected of the hoard rounded the corner.

"Get in the car and drive!" Milah screamed, shoving her husband hard in the back to get him in quicker so she could squeeze in after him. Everyone else that was not already in the car began scattering, humans spreading out in all directions, a few names shouted out as people recognised their friends, family and loved ones amongst the throng of infected being racing towards them. The tension in the car rose even higher as the engine struggled to turn over, the accelerator being slammed against the floor when it finally did and the car shooting forward just in time to miss the first few hands getting hold of any of the metal roof or bike bars on the outside of the framework.

"Faster, faster, faster, faster, faster..." Chanted the wife of the car's owner, looking terrified in the wing mirror of the car, not noticing the infected appearing at either side of the road. No-one could help but see them, though, when the driver had to start making sharp turns to avoid hitting the ones appearing in the road, curses spilling from his lips as he steered left and right in a mad dance to get to the safety of the woodland ahead.

It was just as they hit the tree-line that Smee noticed the warm, wetness against his hand.  
"Milah... Killian!" He choked out, looking at the red smeared all over the hammock and his arm, his gaze slowly coming back to her horror filled eyes. Almost simultaneously they came to the same conclusion and began fighting together to get the fabric of the hammock away.

"Oh God, there's so much blood!" Milah cried, tears rolling down her cheeks as they inspected the stump that was now Killian's arm, the tourniquet having slipped off and the ragged flesh dripping in time with his heartbeat, coating everything in red, gory warmth.

"Here," Said Gold, tearing a strip of his own shirt off and handing it over to Smee. "Re-tie his arm up. It can at least bide us some time until we work out what to do about him." Working together, they managed to make a new tourniquet, all fully aware it simply wouldn't be enough to save his life. All they could be grateful for was that the shock had already knocked him out so at least there were no screams of pain this time as they pulled the wound closed as best they could.

Luckily, their plan seemed to have paid off as the numbers of infected outside seemed to decrease until they were flying down the forest road completely unhindered, although also completely aimlessly. Smee continued ripping up items of clothing and using them to add to the tourniquet around Killian's arm, binding it together as tight as possible and wrapping other pieces of fabric around as a make-shift bandage. It seemed to do the trick, as the drip of blood stopped and less and less of the fabric being tied around seeped as soon as it was applied. More pieces of clothing were passed over by the couple in the front and together, Milah and Smee used them to wrap him up to keep him warm.

After about 30 minutes of driving, Jones stirred just enough to open his eyes. A water canteen was immediately passed over and Milah carefully guided it to his mouth, sighing in relief when he greedily gulped a few mouthfuls before resting his head back and breathing heavily.  
"How do you feel?" She asked him, gently moving a sweat soaked lock of hair off his forehead.  
"Hung-over, without the fun bit the night before." He grinned, letting a little chuckle out before his forehead once again scrunched in pain.  
"Sounded like you were having plenty of fun in your apartment last night." Milah told him, a glint in her eye that could be mischief, could be another tear.  
"Aye, and thank the Gods it wasn't my dominant hand that was sliced." He told her, "Looks like my fun-having days aren't over just yet."  
"Oh, gross you two!" Shouted the woman from the front seat, giggling a little at their crude jokes.  
"You never change, do you, Jones?" Smee grinned happily, slapping his friend on the right shoulder and ignoring the faint grunt of pain Killian let out at the way his hand was disturbed from the movement.

"Okay guys, we have a slight problem." Their driver told them, effectively killing the humorous mood in the car. "I'm getting real close to empty and I don't see any other vehicles I can steal fuel from or any gas stations nearby. What do we wanna do?"  
"It's starting to get fairly dark." Gold pointed out. "Maybe we should find a clearing in the forest, get some rest before going looking for fuel."  
"That's what I was thinking." The driver's wife spoke up, "Might as well pull over fairly soon, I haven't seen any infected for a while and there's not going to be much different between here and a couple miles up the road."

Nodding his assent, the driver pulled over to the side of the road, turning the engine off and hopping out, opening doors as he walked round the car to help the passengers out.

Killian winced as he moved, the cold hitting him as the bits of clothing fell from his body and causing tendrils of pain to shoot up his arm and across his body. He stood on shaking legs, trying to take a step but almost immediately losing his balance, only to be caught by Milah and Gold, who both grabbed him under an arm and pushed him back up to standing. Meeting each other's faces over him, Milah's eyes told Gold he needed to wrap an arm around Killian's waist and help him stay upright as they walked.

They had only been walking 5 minutes, looking for a good place to make camp when the sound of cans hitting together sounded, the driver and his wife having walked right into a trip wire alarm system. Not sure what to expect next, the group froze, looking all around and pulling out whatever knives and weapons they had collected on their way out. A twig cracked ahead of them and shuffling footsteps were heard before a tall, largely built man came into view. He stood stock still as he took in their group, confusion on his face.

"Hey, you guys aren't OU's." He told them, the confusion leaking into his voice as he tossed a long, curled lock of hair over his shoulder.  
"OU's?" Their driver repeated back, his voice matching the confusion of the other man.  
"Yeah, like the ones with the virus that's ended the world." The man replied back, turning to look at Killian, "Although he doesn't look far off turning-"  
"Oh no, he's not turning." The driver's wife cut in, "He had an accident and lost a hand. The most medical training any of us have is Smee here who is only a first aid worker. We simply couldn't leave Jones back in the city to die."  
"Wow, you guys have come from the city?" The man said back, his eyebrows shooting up to match how impressed he sounded. "Well, hey, none of us are officially medically trained, but I've seen Robin and Marian perform a few miracles since we got out here. Maybe they can help out?"

Sticking a meaty hand out, the man smiled at them. "Name's Little John by the way. Pleased to meet you all. Follow me, we'll see what we can do for you."

Smiling at the irony of the man's name, the group followed to a clearing not too far from where they had caught the trip wire, the area surrounded by professional looking tents, a bonfire in the middle and a whole group of people sharing food, jokes, love and laughter. Leaving the group behind to stare about them in awe, Little John went ahead to speak with a man who was sitting on a log next to a heavily pregnant woman. He gestured towards them, their faced becoming awash with concern as Little John spoke. The man stood up and turned, looking around.

"Alan! Alan Dale, where have you got to?" He asked in a broad, well spoken English accent, making his way over to the group even as he called. From somewhere behind one of the tents, a man with red hair and a goatee to match came rushing over.  
"Yes Locksley?" The red-head called as he rushed over to join the approaching man the group guessed was Robin.  
"Be a good man, Dale, show these people where they can rest their heads and get some food in them will you? I have an injury to attend to." Locksley commanded, calmly, as he turned to take in Killian's appearance.

"The name's Robin Locksley, who might you be?" He asked, walking over to Killian and taking the arm he had wrapped around Milah's shoulder for support.  
"Jones, Killian Jones." Killian replied, his face contorting in pain as it was moved from Milah's shoulders to Locksley's.  
"Well, Jones, it looks like you've been trying to feed the infected." Locksley joked with him, starting to lead him over to the fire. "Bloody painful thing to do, that. And I'm afraid there's more pain in your future if we're to save your life."  
"Figured as much." Killian replied, gritting his teeth as he was lowered to the ground in front of the bonfire.

Milah and Smee sat on either side of him, pushing up against him on either side to keep him upright. Milah's eyes dancing in the light of the bonfire as she watched the pregnant woman approach with caution. But then Locksley wrapped his arm around the woman's swollen waist and smiled softly and lovingly at her, quelling Milah's worry.  
"May I introduce my wife? This is Marian. Our second child in her belly." Robin told them, proudly, pointing to a small child who was chattering loudly to whoever seemed to be listening. "There's our first. Roland, his name. He's only 4."

Marian knelt down in front of Jones, gesturing to his stump.  
"May I see?" She asked, kindly, her face twisted in sympathy.  
"I'd rather you didn't, milady," Killian told her, his mouth curling into a smile at one end, "I'm afraid that bloody infected has eaten some of the handsome out of me." Everyone around Killian laughed a little at that, Milah's heart growing at her brave lover, trying to make everyone laugh even while he was in incredible amounts of agony.  
"I assure you, it's nothing I've not seen before." Marian smiled back at him, carefully taking the heavily wrapped bundle that was the end of his arm and starting to unravel it. "I worked as a military nurse on the front line for a number of years before Roland came along. This used to be an every day for me."  
"I was navy for a spell." Killian told her, trying to keep a conversation going to keep his mind off the pain. "Joined with my brother, Liam. We served together, he was my captain. But our ship was bombed from an aircraft, Liam went down with the ship. I still have no clue how I survived that one." He was cut off by a sharp lightening rod shooting up his arm as Marian began getting to the more blood soaked rags that were closer to his arm.

"At least I know I don't have to worry about you being squeamish then." Marian smiled, feeling awful that she was causing him pain but knowing she needed to work to save him. As much as Killian Jones was not squeamish, his face changed colour at an alarming rate as she pulled off the final rag and exposed his arm to the world, the pale colour first going grey then fading into a sickly green. Frowning, she carefully untied the slippery tourniquet and pulled it off to see the full extent of the damage. Standing, she moved off to give some orders to one of the women standing behind her, telling them exactly what she needed and telling them to be quick about procuring it.

Milah rubbed a comforting hand down Killian's back, looking at his face with worry.  
"Don't look at it, Killi', just look at me. That's it." She cooed to him, trying to do anything she could to make things better for him. Killian turned his head slowly, swallowing hard as the world seemed to take it's time in following the movement of his head, which was starting to feel dangerously light once more.

Within a few moments, Marian had returned, her arms full of metal objects - pans, metal cutlery and ladles, even the odd tin plate which she buried deep in the flames from the bonfire before turning back to Killian. Taking the leather belt she had brought over, she folded it over a number of times before presenting it to his face.  
"I'm afraid you're really going to want this." She told him, inserting it into his open mouth and trying not to react to his whimper of fear. Behind him, Little John, Robin, Alan and a number of the other men knelt down, each grabbing a part of Killian and holding him down, a couple of them whispering apologies for what was about to happen.

Killian swallowed hard again, begging himself to not scream too loud even as Marian pulled the cork out of the top of the bottle of rum she had brought over. Thinking about it for half a second, she leant over and took the belt out of Killian's mouth again, offering the bottle instead.  
"Drink, as much as you can, but I'll warn you, it's strong stuff." She ordered him, slowly and carefully pouring the drink into his mouth, him gulping it down gratefully, knowing it would help dull the pain even a little bit, but still coughing as the alcohol trickled down his throat. Taking the bottle away, Marian once again gave him the belt to bite down on and everyone prepared, tensing for what was about to come.

"I won't lie," Marian told him, hovering the bottle over the end of his stump, "This will hurt like a bitch." With that, she began to pour the alcohol over the wound and instantly, Killian was grateful so many strong men were holding him down because with the pain that was setting his whole body alight there was no way he wouldn't have tried to attack Marian. He knew he needed this, needed the alcohol to clean the wound as much as could be under the circumstances, but it didn't lessen the torture he was undergoing. Every ounce of his willpower went into holding back, both his movements and the sounds he made around the belt between his teeth, grunting as he squeezed his eyes closed and desperately trying to think of anything other than the electric, sharp agony firing up his arm.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Marian began saying over and over, even as she passed the bottle over to one of the women standing beside her. With her free hand, she reached round herself to grab one of the metal spoons, now glowing white from the heat of the fire. Squeezing her eyes shut, she once more whispered "I am so sorry," before allowing a cloud of determination to settle over her, opening her eyes, she pressed the scolding metal against the wound, instantly cauterising the open flesh and stopping the bleeding. The pain was so intense, Killian passed out once again, his head lolling back against the men at his back, and instead of working to hold him down, the men were now working at keeping him upright and still so Marian could finish cauterising the wound and bandaging it in actual medical material she had stolen from their local pharmacy when the infection really kicked off outside.

"Now that is one bloody brave bloke." Alan stated quietly, his tone matching the mood around the fire, "I seriously thought we'd have a hoard on our hands, thinking he was going to scream the forest down, but a couple of growls around the leather and he passes out? More than I could have managed."  
"Killian is one of the best." Smee replied glumly, looking down at his once-again unconscious best friend.  
"The very best." Milah added, swallowing the tears that threatened to overflow.

In the shadows behind the crowd, Gold's eyes flashed as he watched the way his wife interacted with Killian Jones, connections starting to form in his mind that made his heart clench and his hands curl into fists at his side.


	4. Chapter 4

Neither woman spoke as Emma and Mary Margaret made their way up the drive towards Boston Medical Centre. If they hadn't known any better, they would have said the hospital was completely abandoned, but neither one entertained the idea that the hospital would not be a breeding ground for the newly undead. Stealing glances at one another, they crouched down in front of the main doorway, getting ready to watch the door and windows, checking for any signs of movement before entering.

"So you and your friends really made a suicide pact together?" Mary Margaret whispered over to Emma, unable to lose the feeling of horror at what her new friend had revealed earlier.  
"Well, as far as we knew we were the only humans left in the world." Emma replied, her eyes trained on a window on the right side of the building where they could see something moving. "No point sticking around for just the three of us."  
"But if you didn't know if there was anyone around to protect, why bother killing as many infected as you could?" Mary Margaret shot back, even as they each uncurled into a half crouch and started running towards the main entrance of the building, pressing their bodies against the walls on either side of the doorway.  
"We had to have a goal in mind, something to achieve, you know?" Emma whispered back, shrugging once as she turned to face her new friend. "Not much point fighting to stay alive if you have nothing to stay alive for. We needed something to get out of bed in the mornings for and that seemed to do it for us. Besides, there might have been people somewhere that we were helping by doing that."  
"You're incredibly brave, Emma." Mary Margaret told her in a soft voice, her eyes brimming with admiration for a moment.

Emma nodded once, smiling awkwardly in acknowledgement of the complement, then flashed her eyes into the dark corridor beyond the doorway.  
"Look, this place isn't going to be as dead as it looked on the outside." She warned Mary Margaret, "There are going to be infected crawling all over this joint. Do you have a plan?"

Mary Margaret's eyes hardened, her stance becoming tighter and far less relaxed, looking ready for action.  
"The pharmacy is on the first floor, opposite side of the building." She stated, looking between Emma and the corridor, sighing heavily. "My plan was get in, grab whatever we can and get out quickly." Emma shook her head.  
"Others will have thought of a pharmacy that's so easy to find, think bigger." She breathed back, "What about a supply closet? Somewhere they keep the medication for the people on the wards?"  
"There should be one on each floor, near the nurses stations."  
"Think you can find the way there with no lights?"  
"I know this hospital like the back of my hand." Mary Margaret smiled, edging forward to show she was about to enter the place. "Come on, follow me!"

Mary Margaret took a step forward, pulling a small hand pistol from the waistband of her jeans. Emma let out a small gasp at the sight of it, grabbing Mary Margaret's arm before she could go any further.  
"What are you doing, are you crazy?" She squeaked at her new friend, eyes wide.  
"If we want the medication, we're going to have to go inside." Mary Margaret stated back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
"But you're going to arm yourself with a gun to do it?" Emma hissed back, "Are you kidding me? Those things can still hear us. One shot from your pistol and we'll be fighting off every infected from the city, there's no way we'll get out of there alive!"  
"So what do you suggest we do then, just sneak past them and hope they don't notice?" The smaller woman asked, stuffing the gun back in the waistband of her jeans and following Emma who had entered the hospital and was looking around at the walls.

Emma suddenly shot off to the right, having spotted a corridor with a partially collapsed ceiling and running over to where rubble and building structure lay all over the ground. Reaching down, she grabbed hold of a loose steel bar that had obviously been used to give support to the building, pulling it free and holding it in front of her, smiling as she assessed her prize.  
"This should do the trick." She mumbled, gaze flicking over to Mary Margaret and mouth pulling up into a grin. Leaning back down, she grabbed another of the steel rods, handing it over to Mary Margaret. "Silent, but strong. They won't do enough damage to kill, but they should slow anything down in our way enough to get past."  
"Oh, good idea." Mary Margaret said, taking the rod from Emma and giving it a few experimental swipes through the air, getting used to the feeling of the new weapon in her hand.  
"You did remember to put the safety on your gun, right?" Emma asked her, putting a hand on Mary Margaret's shoulder, silently telling her to stop swinging the steel through the air.  
"There's a safety switch?" Mary Margaret parroted back, looking down at the slight bump the gun made in the fabric of her clothing.  
"Really?" Emma all but shrieked, moving Mary Margaret's clothing out of the way so she could access the gun, pull it safely from the waistband of her jeans and hold it up to her face so she could check. Rolling her eyes with a sigh, she let the weapon fall limp in her hand as she passed it back, feeling safer in the knowledge that even though the other woman hadn't know there was a safety catch on the gun, it was set to on so she wouldn't have been able to fire it anyway.  
"At least you couldn't have got very far with it." She muttered, stepping past her and making her way back to the main hallway, steel rod in hand and hearing trained to both the quiet footsteps of the woman behind her as well as out ahead to catch any hint of lurking danger.

"So you didn't know about the safety catch and you didn't know the infected can hear us." Emma said over her shoulder as she continued ahead, "If you're the best your camp can provide for someone to do supply runs you're either a very small camp or horribly unsuccessful."  
"Oh no, I've never done a supply run before." Mary Margaret breathed back from behind Emma, excitement in her tone.  
"What? So why did they send you to get something as important as medicine for someone sick?"  
"They didn't. I sneaked out." Mary Margaret said as she tapped Emma on the shoulder and pointed to a stairwell, motioning that they needed to go up and turn right at the top. "The camp is run by an old friend of mine, Regina. When August's father, Marco, went to Regina and asked for a supply run to a hospital for antibiotics, Regina told him we couldn't spare the people. She called poor Marco selfish for wanting to send a group of people out to save the one person."

"Makes sense." Emma allowed, following Mary Margaret's instructions, but motioning to the other woman when they needed to stick to one or the other side of the corridor to avoid holes in the floor.  
"But you should have seen Marco's face. August is the only family he has, or ever had even. I think the idea of losing his son would have broken him, he would have been devastated. I couldn't bear it. I used to babysit for August when he was a little boy and I've grown to love him like my own brother. I couldn't let him die, I just couldn't. So I sneaked out when the guards were changing to come get the medicine for him. Regina can't complain about losing one person volunteering to try and save him if she doesn't know. I plan to sneak back in before Regina even knows I'm gone. What she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?"  
"I suppose." Emma agreed, realising she had stumbled upon one of the nicest people she could ever possibly have found.

The two women quickly fell silent after the explanation, carefully inching past a closed door in a crouch, the window in the door showing a room full of infecteds who were shuffling round quietly, a good mix of what had once been both medical personnel in a variety of different coloured scrubs, patients in hospital gowns and civilian looking types who had either been visiting, or, as Emma suspected from a long and nasty looking gash one had down their face, other survivors who had come to pillage the hospital and not made it back out again. The hospital was an absolute maze of twists, turns, staircases and broken down lift shafts that they had to climb once or twice as they checked every store room they came across. Most had cleaning supplies within, one, a huge backpack that Emma quickly pilfered and slung over her own back so she could add to the storage Mary Margaret already had on her own back. Every now and then when they'd enter a cupboard, Mary Margaret would give an almost silent squeak of delight at finding this spray bottle or that packet of pills, each time causing the corner of Emma's mouth to pull up in a grin to celebrate their tiny victories.

"How do you know your way round this place so well?" Emma asked Mary Margaret once when the smaller woman had directed her into a door that looked like another cupboard but turned out to be a staffroom with another door on the other side allowing them access to a corridor Emma hadn't even known existed yet.  
"I used to volunteer here." Mary Margaret stated, simply, "Mother Superior used to allow me to walk some of the longer stay patients around the hospital so they didn't get too bored or lonely in their beds."  
"You volunteered? Wow, people actually do that?" Emma muttered under her breath, opening another door and checking inside, but huffing in impatience when all she found was spare things for the beds like sheets, bedpans and sample bottles. Closing the door as quietly as she could, they continued to wander on.  
"I was a grade school teacher, you know, before..."  
"Before the world ended?" Emma supplied, helpfully.  
"... Yeah, that. So coming here was nice, I got to speak with adults and have conversations that didn't involve crayons, glitter and... Oh jackpot!" Mary Margaret suddenly said, grabbing Emma's arm and pointing to a supply closet down the corridor that had its doors open, showing every shelf inside still heavily stocked with all the pill bottles they could get their hands on.

Grinning to one another, the two women ran forward, momentarily forgetting to check what was around them. When they got inside the closet, they found it went back a couple of stacks of shelves as well as off to the left with more and more bottles. Again, they grinned at one another as they began walking through the shelves, picking up the odd orange bottle here and there, reading the labels and trying to guess at the sorts of medicine on the inside. Mary Margaret gave a small giggle of glee as she swept her hand behind a stack and immediately dumped them all in her backpack.

"Pain meds, perfect!" She murmured as she listened to the satisfying rattle of bottles full of pills falling into her bag.  
"What else are we looking for?" Emma asked her, picking up another bottle with a name so long she didn't even want to attempt to pronounce it.  
"Honestly, I have no idea." Mary Margaret admitted, a touch of embarrassment tingeing her words. "I used to hand out vases of flowers and reading material, not medication.  
"Oh great, alright." Emma replied sarcastically. She paused for a moment, Mary Margaret could almost hear the gears turning in her head before she made a decision. "Well, I know things ending in -cillin tend to be good for infections. If we can get our hands on anything ending in -ine like 'Morphine' or 'codeine' we should definitely grab those. OH!" She whispered loudly, suddenly moving over to a cupboard full of small cardboard boxes. "These things will have information leaflets! Grab a load of these and we can read through what they are and what they do when we get back."  
"I found a couple of medical books over here. I'm going to add anything that mentions the words 'infection' or 'wound' on the front. Seems like the right idea." Mary Margaret told Emma, holding up one of the thickest books Emma had ever seen, before stuffing it into her bag with the bottles.

The two women worked quickly, grabbing anything they recognised the name of, anything they thought would contain information leaflets explaining what to do with the contained medicine and anything else that looked vaguely useful, their bags bulking out and becoming heavier by the second. Mary Margaret got excited when she found an entire shelf full of medical bandages, tape and wound dressings and was chattering away about it all to Emma as the blonde studied bottles on the shelves right by the door.

This was how Emma was the first to notice the flash of white further down the corridor from them. Freezing, she turned her whole body to look at the thing, watching the surreal way it moved, wondering how something made of so much bulky muscle could move and barely make a sound. Her blood began running cold when it's icy blue eyes locked onto her and there was a few moments where the world seemed to stand still, the two just staring at one another, Emma's green eyes sparkling with fear and the other thing's eyes sparkling with other.

Then it opened its mouth, revealing not teeth but icicles, protruding about a foot each from the gum line and finishing in razor sharp points, it sucked in a huge breath, then let it out, all at once in an ear splitting, terrifying scream.

Killian had been placed in one of the tents, laid gently down on a bed so he could sleep off the pain. Milah never left his side, telling the men if they even brushed his new stump accidentally she could throw them in the fire herself and ordering them to leave as soon as Jones was covered with a blanket, his stump resting on top so Milah could keep an eye on how much blood soaked through the dressing Marian had wrapped it in. Thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have stopped entirely. She climbed into the bed with him, turning on her side so she could face him and watch his face for any sign he might be waking up. She lovingly brushed locks of inky black hair out of his face and ran her fingers down the stubble of his cheek, not even attempting to stop the tears leaking out of her own eyes s she tried to imagine what she would do if he never woke, if she never got to hear his voice or feel his warm touch on her again in a way her husband hadn't done for years.

The next morning, Marian finally convinced Milah to come away from the tent for a while, saying she really needed to bathe and keep clean if she wanted to stay around someone with a wound that could get worse if exposed to dirt as well as eating to keep up her strength. As she walked through the camp with a few of the other women, she resolutely kept her gaze away from her husband, putting far more of her concentration into where she was going than was strictly necessary.

When they reached the outside line of the camp, weaving through the trees to reach the river, one of the women came up to Milah, nudging her side and giving her a grin that came right from the grapevine.  
"Did you see the way that Gold guy was staring at you?" She half-whispered to Milah, gaining the attention of a few of their other companions who began listening in as they walked. "I think you have an admirer!"  
"What, with Gold?" Milah questioned back, turning to look at the woman in disbelief that they were having this conversation. But the woman seemed to take her look the wrong way.  
"Yes! Oh gosh the jealousy in his eyes whenever he sees you with Jones is practically turning his whole body green, never mind just the eyes. And the way he looks at your husband? If looks could kill I'd think poor Killian would be a pile of ashes on the floor."

Milah stopped dead in her tracks as she realised what the woman was implying. She could feel the red creeping up her neck and into her face, hoping the women took it for anger and not for the embarrassment that she had been caught out.  
"You've got it the wrong way round." She bit out, "Gold is my husband. Killian just lived in one of the apartments nearby. He's just a friend."  
"Oh." The woman stammered, her eyes going wide and a blush flooding her own face. "Oh I'm so sorry, I just assumed, what with you spending the night in with Jones and Gold in his own tent and... well... the way you look at Jones and the tension, I just..."  
"What tension?" Milah cut in, curling her hands into fists at her sides.  
"The sexual tension, obviously." Another one of the women chimed in, taking a step closer now she was in the conversation. "Come on, I wouldn't be surprised if you jumped the guy's bones the second he woke up. You practically undress him with your eyes every time you look at him. It's like watching a kid with their first crush."  
"Shut up!" Milah cried, stopping all conversation around her. "I came out here to get a wash, not to be psycho-analysed by a bunch of... of FISHWIVES."

With that, Milah stalked off. she didn't really know the route to the river, but she did remember the way back to camp. Her face felt on fire she was blushing so aggressively and her mind was whirling with all the comments the women had said to her. Was it that obvious how deep her affection and attraction for Jones went? In which case, surely Gold had seen right through her too and yet he had never mentioned anything. Then again, she doubted he ever would. The man was incapable of conflict, too cowardly to say anything against her.

When they had first got together, the level of power she felt over him was invigorating, only adding to the delicious rebellious feeling she had knowing how much her parents disapproved. She remembered how they spoke of their future plans together, he had an entry level job in an office, working minimum wage but just enough to be able to take her out for whatever date she asked for, whether it be the movies, a meal or even once to a theme park. She had laughed at the theme park idea, only realising after that in trying to please her, Gold had spent every penny to his name and then some, meaning they couldn't do anything together for the next month or so. He'd told her he was planning on climbing the ranks, getting to the top of the business to become a rich CEO so he could shower her in luxury and wealth. The notion had entertained her for years, thinking he was planning on taking over the company but knowing he didn't have what it took to climb, staying at his entry level job for years.

It didn't take too many years for the novelty to wear off, though. They had moved away from her parents and ceased contact, effectively destroying that rebellious delight she used to feel. Gold's cowardice had caused him to stay in the same entry level job, never moving upwards and so they had become stuck in the apartment building, unable to afford anything better. Their physical relationship dwindled as their relationship broke down, depressingly silent as every time she tried to have an argument with him, every time she tried to explain how miserable she was, he would simply leave the house, returning after a few hours with flowers and chocolates, but no plans about how he would change for the better.

The night he was finally promoted at his work, Milah celebrated by bringing out a cheap bottle of wine she had saved for such an event and poured them both a large glass. They had gone out for dinner to her favourite restaurant after, eaten until they felt fit to burst and sunk another few bottles of wine. Milah was just beginning to feel the edges of her mind go fuzzy as the alcohol began its wonderful work, when she realised her husband was completely trashed. As they exited the restaurant, she had to grab his arm and wrap it round her shoulders so she could prop him up as they made their way back home, stumbling with him and cursing as he sang way too loudly and horribly out of key.

Finally, they were on the floor of their apartment, but Milah was tired after half carrying her husband along 3 blocks and he was stumbling more and more, becoming harder to steer with every step. Without warning, his legs went out from under him, dragging Milah with him, they ended up in a heap on the floor.  
"Oh, you low life bastard." She cursed him, "Are you really too pathetic to handle a few bottles of wine?"  
"Need a hand there, love?" Came a deep, accented voice and a hand that appeared on her husband's shoulder.  
"Just need to get him home." Milah informed the stranger, untangling herself from Gold and pulling on his one arm while her rescuer hauled the man up by the other.  
"Lead the way." The accent instructed her, the two working in tandem to get Gold back to their apartment, and just in time before Gold brought up most of what he had put down that evening, thankfully getting everything into their toilet without too much mess. Between each retch, he gave a pitiful sob, whining about how awful he felt and begging her for forgiveness.

"Oh for God's sake..." Milah sighed, looking down at her husband who was effectively draped over and around the porcelain, groaning as more dinner ended up in the toilet.  
"I've a good bottle of rum back at my place, it's just down the hall. Fancy joining me?"

Even a year later she remembered the thrilled shockwave that went down her spine the first time she had set eyes on Killian, her heart fluttering a mile a minute and her face breaking into a shy smile of its own accord. Out of all the things her husband had given her, the chance to meet Killian Jones was by far her favourite gift. Gold had finally begun advancing at work, becoming more shark like (or more like a 'crocodile' in the words of Jones) in the way he worked to advance, never realising it was too late to try and impress his wife, for her heart had long since belonged to another.

These were the thought she was having as she traversed the forest back the way she had come towards their camp. Finally as she began to see the tents and canopies beyond the tree line, she sighed a smug breath of relief, watching the movement of the people in the camp for a moment and hesitating as she tried to think of a viable excuse as to why she had come back without the rest of the women without giving away what they had been arguing about.

"Hello, Milah." A voice beside her sounded, causing her to jump.  
"What are you doing here?" She demanded, turning to finally look her husband in the eye for the first time since they had arrived at the camp.  
"I heard a very interesting conversation amongst the women of the camp just before they set off for the river so I hung around to listen." He informed her, stepping a little closer, his one hand in his trouser pocket while the other clutched his walking stick and a completely blank expression on his face. "Although I must admit, the conversation did get a little boring when I realised they weren't saying anything I didn't already know."  
"What conversation would that be?" Milah asked him, trying to take a subtle step back when she noticed the stick, the one he had been using ever since he bought it with the suit he wore to their wedding, trying to ignore her mind warning her that it would make for an excellent weapon.  
"Oh, just the talk about how my own wife, Milah, is in love with another."  
"I don't know what you're talking about." She tried to tell him in her best surprised manner, but even to her it sounded shaky and nervous.  
"Do you really take me for that much of a fool, Dearie?" He asked her, his eyes narrowing and the blank facade he'd been wearing cracking to show the real extent of his anger underneath. "How long have you been whoring yourself out to Jones, Milah?"  
"I've not been whoring myself out." She retorted back. "Killian's my friend! He's been there to comfort me every time I've had to deal with you and how much you disappoint me."  
"My apologies, I fail to see how opening your legs for another man is classed as him being 'comforting'."  
"I haven't... we've not..." Milah tried but couldn't think of the right words. She wasn't even attempting to be subtle any more, keeping her eyes on her husband at all times as she backed up further into the trees, not liking how their position put him between her and the shelter of the camp, therefore at the advantage point as he would be able to strike before anyone managed to get to her aid.

"STOP LYING TO ME." Gold bellowed, his eyes practically popping out of his skull and the red in his cheeks quickly spreading to cover his whole face. The gold of his fake tooth at the front brought her attention to the rest of his teeth and Milah's ever helpful mind made her think about how much he really did resemble a crocodile, especially at this very moment in time, when he was acting in a way she didn't even know him capable of and therefore, making him unpredictable and dangerous. She couldn't help noticing the noise level from the camp had died right down and a whole lot of eyes were suddenly watching the exchange. In the peripheral of her gaze, she could just make out the form of Killian Jones, standing unsteadily on his feet just outside the tent he had been resting in, his shortened left arm being supported up by his right and a look of pain on his face.

"You've been slutting it up for that vapid leech of a man for months and you really think I wouldn't notice?" He spat at her, just quiet for her to hear, a vein popping out on his forehead with the force of his anger, "I wouldn't notice the drugged up look you'd get on your face whenever you came back from his apartment, the rosy, glowing tint to your cheeks and your hair messed up in a way that screamed 'I just had sex', the odd button here and there missing or the time you came home from work, got changed and left for his apartment. Shame I went into OUR bedroom immediately after and noticed that although you'd carefully laid all your clothes out as you always do, you'd still forgotten to put on your favourite, lacy purple knickers. But the most obvious thing, Milah? The most obvious was either how you came home smelling like his cologne and sex, or the negative pregnancy tests I saw in our bathroom bin. Why would you be taking pregnancy tests when we've not made love in over a year?"  
"Oh try over 3." Milah snapped back. "We haven't 'made love' in over 3 years. Yeah, we might have shagged or had the occasional 'quickie', but there's been no love in it for a long time. I stopped loving you years ago. Killian is everything I want and everything you could never give me."

The two stood, gasping breaths and glaring at each other for a few moments. Gold seemed to get himself under control the first, standing up with his usual gentlemanly poise, smoothing down the sides of his jacket, brushing away imaginary bits of lint and running a hand through his hair, his face relaxing back to a neutral state. Milah soon followed, folding her arms over her chest and squaring her shoulders. She cleared her throat, finally looking away from him, thinking he had gone back to being her old husband, the one who hated conflict more than anything else.

"Milah, my love..." He said calmly as he walked towards her. Bending down, he captured her lips with his and kissed her like he hadn't in years. His one hand came up to frame her face, even as she relaxed and unfolded her arms to rest them tentatively on his hips. "...I am sorry." He told her, resting his forehead against hers, their breath mingling between them to add to the tenderness of the moment.  
"What for?" She asked, expecting he would try and placate her for how miserable he had made her life.

What she didn't expect, was for him to take a step back, his eyes suddenly hard as rocks.  
"For this." And with that, his stick went swishing through the air. It made impact with Milah's leg so hard there was a loud cracking sound. Pain shot through her body, her face crumpling at the agony and the weight of her body helping her to collapse on top of the broken bone in her leg.  
"MILAH!" Killian cried from the camp, running forward, only to be caught by Robin's arms wrapping around his torso and hauling him backwards.  
"Fuck you, slut." Gold spat at his wife, glaring down at her, until a noise behind her made him look up and smile. "Rot in hell."

Milah knew she was doomed the second the hand latched onto her shoulder, even before the teeth sank into her neck. As her life faded and she became one of the infected, all she could think was that she would never have to see her husband again.


	5. Chapter 5

"So from what I remember there's a blonde lady who has declared herself the queen of Wonderland and she's always wearing red, which is apparently very appropriate because she's known to be a bit of a meanie-beanie. Lizard told me she likes to think she's the Queen of Hearts..."  
"Wait, a lizard told you that? Where did you find a talking lizard?"  
"No, Kristoff, not an actual lizard, that would be weird. Her name is Elizabeth but she says she's really sneaky kinda like a lizard and so she makes people call her lizard because it's short for Elizabeth. So anyway..."

20 steps behind the fast talking Anna and her giant of a boyfriend, Kristoff, Elsa turned to her mother and aunts and smirked. She didn't need to say anything to them, they had each already shared their piece on how kind, patient and caring Kristoff was towards Elsa's younger sister and had all expressed their admiration for the blonde man. Watching the way the two interacted with one another had always been funny to the older women of the family, but since all the usual forms of entertainment had failed; television, radio, even the internet, the relationship between Kristoff and Anna had become the main focus of their entertainment. Most of the people at their camp were still fascinated about why a guy as huge as Kristoff had fallen for such a petite, pixie like girl like Anna, with her auburn hair braided at either side of her head and her feet always encased in ballet slipper style shoes when most of the camp had taken to donning more hard wearing boots.

"I just want to know where she puts all that energy!" Helga giggled to her sisters and niece, eyes wide with amusement as she watched the couple ahead of her. "Honestly, her talking is like watching a toddler that's consumed an ice cream factory and is trying to run off all the sugar in their system."  
"Ohh, I wish you hadn't said that, sister, I miss ice cream." Greta whined, wrapping two hands around Helga's upper arm and slumping forward to accentuate her point.  
"Oh Greta, don't think of the lack of ice cream, think about how much you're losing off your waist." Came the ever practical voice of Ingrid from Helga's other side, her gaze catching Elsa's and twinkling, seeing her niece know exactly what she was about to say. "After all..."  
"A moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips!" The two blonde women laughed together, grinning at the groan at came from Helga and Greta born from their exasperation.

"Hey, did you guys hear that?" Came the deeper voice of Kristoff, who had apparently slowed down to let the older women catch up while Anna had skipped off to the side of the road they were walking down to pluck a bouquet of wild flowers. Ingrid rolled her eyes at him.  
"They didn't groan loud enough to attract too much, Kristoff, lighten up a little." She told him, playfully swatting his arm as the sisters passed him, going to join Anna and complement her on her little selection so far.

"Kristoff? What is it?" Elsa asked him, worry pinching her brow as she followed his eyesight over the tops of the trees.  
"I don't know..." He muttered quietly, listening and thinking so hard Elsa could almost hear the way his ear drums were working to pick up on the slightest of noises. "Wait, that! Did you hear that?"

Somewhere in the distance, a woman's scream could just be heard over the tops of Elsa's family chattering away to one another. Looking over at the other women, Elsa noticed Ingrid had stood up and was studying the tree line in the same place she and Kristoff had just been watching. "Can't be good..." Elsa murmured so only Kristoff heard, the three getting distracted by a swarm of birds that all seemed to take off at the same time from the trees, casting an undulating black cloud over their heads for a moment before vanishing.

The crack of a gunshot rang loud and echoed all around the group. The chattering of the women further down the road ceased. As the last few waves of sound from the shot faded away, the forest lined road seemed to be blanketed in a bone-chilling silence, not even the crickets were chirping as the Earth held it's bated breath, almost promising something awful just around the corner.

"Maybe everything's going to be alright?" Anna tried to state, but the sentence was filled with too much desperate optimism for it to come out as anything other than a question.

The world seemed to reawaken in a cacophony of voices all rising together in sheer panic, the sounds of metal slamming together, fabric tearing and frantic footsteps joined the ominous, thunderous melody of hundreds of infected, all heading towards where the little group on the road knew a camp must be hidden.

Before anyone could speak or even try to stop him, Kristoff had began racing forward, ignoring the screams of his girlfriend and her family behind him, his instinct drew him towards the horrific events that were unfolding just out of their line of vision.

"She's making too much noise, someone shut her up!" A voice called to his left.  
"How do you propose we do that? It's ripped her neck apart." Answered one from his right.  
"Someone put her out of her misery!" A third voice cried.  
"Gold you bastard, what have you done?" Came another.

Killian ignored them all. He ignored Robin's shout from behind him as he tore out of his arms. He ignored the throbbing in his arm. He ignored the way his muscles stretched in his legs and the tears streaming down his cheeks. All he could think of was getting to Milah, of fixing the scene before him somehow. Her face was a twisted mess of agony and terror, crimson spurting down her front as it drained out of her face. The infected had pulled the first strip of flesh away from her and just kept going back, producing new wails from Milah each time its rotten teeth sank into her skin. Gold turned to face Killian as he ran, his maniacal grin searing itself into Killian's mind.

"Milah, shut up!" Someone shouted from behind Killian.

Gold turned back round, pulling something metal from his pocket and aiming it for Milah's chest, he pulled the trigger and a bullet flew through the air and embedded in the right side of her chest, puncturing a lung and causing her to gasp desperately.

A strong pair of arms went around Killian's chest and abdomen, pulling him backwards, long before he could reach to punch the insane, delighted look off Gold's face.

"He's not worth it." Robin ground out in Killian's ear, still fighting to pull the man back having chased after him. Behind them, the camp was in uproar, screams and the thunderous sound of feet running to gather belongings and pack them, ready to make a break for it. Before them, Milah was dragged back by the infected that had hold of her, soon surrounded by a whole group of the infected as more advanced.  
"No he's not, but she is." Killian gasped out, feeling like a white hot poker had gone through his heart and spread fire down his veins as he watched the life drain from those eyes he had spent so much of the last year admiring.

"We have to go!" Robin told him, desperately.

Killian knew he was right, knew there was nothing he could do for her now, so he allowed his new friend to steer him away and into the crowd of people piling onto buses and into cars, engine's snarling to life all around them as he climbed into a 4 by 4 behind Robin. Turning to look out of the window, the last thing he saw of Milah was nothing but a writhing mass of bodies, covered in crimson and feasting on her still and broken body. Gold was nowhere to be seen.

They could immediately tell where the hoard had been, shuffling footprints ran through the forest in what looked like their thousands. Even as the younger members of their group strode ahead to see what the infected had been after, the three older women turned to look at one another with apprehension. They knew that so far they had been lucky, although they spent a lot of time travelling between camps with messages for loved ones, supplies and anything else that needed to be transported, they had so far not seen too many actual dead people. Sure they had felled a number of infected, seen the evidence of the twice dead by the sides of the roads, but they had seen very few freshly dead actual people.

So when they finally got to the campground the hoard had found, all of them stood stock still for a moment. There was so much red. It seeped into the ground, it spattered over the nearby trees and every item that had been left behind by the inhabitants was covered.

"Oh Gods..." Anna whispered as she stepped forward, picking up a child's rattle, gingerly avoiding the blood it was painted with.  
"These poor, poor people." Elsa added, not reaching to pick anything up and looking like she was desperately trying to hold onto her dinner even as she stepped around the piles of meat that had been people only a few minutes before.  
"Looks like they had a radio or two." Kristoff said, coming out of one of the few canvas structures that was still standing, clutching a radio in white knuckled fists. "Does this mean Sydney Glass' broadcast isn't reaching anyone?"  
"That doesn't have batteries, Kristoff." Elsa pointed out, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips for a second before her face fell back to its original expression of horror and sympathy.

"Helga, Greta, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ingrid asked her sisters, her gaze roaming along the footprint marks as the younger members of their group discussed what they had found.  
"That these footprints are heading right for Storeybrooke?" Greta supplied, visibly swallowing, turning wide eyes to her sister.  
"What are we going to do?" Helga asked, keeping her voice low.  
"We need to try and head them off, see if we can't redirect them away from the network." Ingrid informed them, stepping forward. "Kristoff! A word, please?"

Once the whole group were up to date on the issue before them, they tried coming up with a plan.  
"We need to move faster than the hoard, somehow." Anna started, looking utterly hopeless.  
"Well they move pretty slowly, unless they have something specifically to go after." Helga replied.  
"They probably don't know where Storeybrooke is, but as soon as they catch sight or sound of it we'll have no chance." Elsa added.  
"So we need to get to the front of the hoard before they do." Kristoff stated. "And once we get to the front, we need a way of redirecting them, leading them off in another direction entirely."  
"We won't be able to do that on foot, we won't be fast enough." Ingrid sighed, a thoughtful look passing over her features. "Unless we didn't use ourselves as bait. Maybe we could build a wall or something... something for them to walk into that will push them in a different direction."  
"It could be a good plan, but it's so risky." Elsa moaned. "We need something that will work for certain, something that doesn't involve us having to overtake them. But we can't be the bait."  
"I think I have an idea." Anna replied, a thoughtful look crossing her features.

Wandering away from the group, she motioned for them to follow her. Moving quickly, she set them on a path running alongside the footprints at the opposite end of the camp in the same direction, everyone trying very hard to ignore how the footprints on this side were decidedly more red in colour than they had been. After a while of moving quickly through the trees, Anna turned off into a huge, fragrant clearing that had been entirely consumed in wild flowers.  
"Why am I not surprised your daughter has led us to somewhere involving flowers?" Helga joked as she turned to Greta, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes pulling at her mouth.

"Oh my gosh, look!" Elsa cut in, pointing ahead of her to the opposite side of the clearing. There, a lorry sat as though waiting for them, the cab completely crumpled after an obvious crash, but the load it was carrying was intact.  
"I sometimes stop off here on my way to Wonderland." Anna explained to her family. "I raided the cab weeks ago, but the barrel on the back of the lorry? That's a petrol tank. It's still full and ready to blow. All we need to do is light a spark and the whole thing will go ka-blewy. Nice, big loud noise, lots of distracted infected thingys, they all come running this way and away from the network of camps and if we're lucky, a couple of them will even catch fire. That's not a nice thing to say though, really, is it? I'm sorry."  
"If we set the fire in the cab and stuff a load of flammable stuff into the engine, it will spread and cause the fuel in the tank to blow, which should be enough to cause the barrel to go too." Kristoff added, his smile growing the more he spoke. "We can have cleared out by the time it goes off and the blast should be enough to catch the attention of all the infecteds. Anna, you're a genius!"  
"I knew there was a brain in there somewhere." Elsa teased, gently punching her approval onto her sister's arm as the whole group ran for the truck.

Kristoff crowed in victory when inside the cab, they found a huge blanket with all sorts of labels to warn of it being flammable on the label and under that was a whole pile of wrappers from various fast food restaurants. The stench was repugnant but none of the group seemed too bothered by it - with the walking, rotting corpses and the lack of a proper sewerage system, the end of the world had a pretty disgusting stench to it anyway, a bit of gone off food in a lorry cab was nothing.  
"Kristoff, do you know of any way to get this stuff alight?" Ingrid asked, passing materials over to her sisters and nieces who were making quick work of filling all the gaps in the cabs engine.  
"Yeah, we learned how to make a fire when I was a kid." Kristoff replied, heading into the nearby forest to find everything he needed.  
"Why am I not surprised my son-in-law knows how to light a fire in the middle of nowhere?" Greta mumbled to her sisters who both giggled, looking away and stifling them behind coughs when they saw the curious look Anna gave them.

As the group were working, Helga noticed the join between the cab and the barrel. She wandered round until she was stood right next to the gap, studying it to work out a way of connecting the two better. Suddenly, she noticed a slight movement further down the barrel and noticed a wild hare dart under the wheels. Huffing a laugh to herself, Helga followed the animal, making gentle smooching sounds to try and coax it out from under the body of the lorry.  
"Come on little guy," She whispered, "You don't want to be under there. We're about to blow it up meaning you'll blow up too!"

Anna and Elsa stood back to admire their handiwork on the lorry as Kristoff returned and began lighting the fire.  
"You girls are going to want to move fast," He told them over his shoulder as the fabrics started to smoke, "This is going to go up really quick."  
"Come on Elsa, last one to the other edge of the clearing is a dirty old moose!" Anna cried, laughing as she began to run back the way they had come. Elsa was soon following, her shrieks of amusement ringing throughout the clearing.  
"Oh girls, wait for us!" Greta called after them, a smile playing on her own lips as she began to jog along, watching Kristoff fly passed her, catch up with her daughters and lift Anna by the waist, the smaller girls peals of laughter infecting their mother.

But then Greta noticed their group were lacking some people.  
"Ingrid, Helga?" She shouted, turning to see Ingrid stood, her body tense and confused as she watched the inferno that was now raging inside the lorry cab. "Ingrid!"  
"Greta, where's Helga?" Ingrid enquired back over her shoulder, taking half a step towards the lorry.  
"I thought she was with you." Greta told her, running back to share the worried look her sister gave her.  
"And I thought she was with you." Ingrid breathed back, infecting the two of them with raw panic.

The women sprinted back to the lorry as fast as they could run. They screamed Helga's name with every step. The fire's angry breath burned as they desperately tried to warn their sister of the danger she was in. Helga waved a hand from behind one of the lorry wheels.  
"I'm stuck! Help!" Helga coughed.

Anna squealed in delight and began jumping up and down when Kristoff deposited her down by the opposite tree line.  
"You're it Elsa, you're the dirty Moose!" She sang to her sister as Elsa caught up with the two of them, all 3 panting and holding onto each other as they giggled. Kristoff was the first to recover and so was the first to realise what had happened.  
"Anna, Elsa... Where are your mother and Aunts?" He asked them, dread beginning to taint the edged of his words.  
"Well they're right behind..." Elsa trailed off as she turned to see the three older women were not behind her as she had thought.

A sound like cannon fire ripped through the air, the field was suddenly lit up in oranges, yellows and reds as the engine of the lorry burst into light. Anna and Elsa screamed, clinging to one another as Kristoff took a few steps forward, all three unable to look away from the destruction they had caused.  
"Nonononononononono..." Anna chanted into Elsa's breast as her sister gripped her head, holding her as close as physically possible.  
"They can't have been over there, they can't have been. They just went the other way is all." Elsa was saying, tears rolling down her cheeks. "They knew they would get more cover from the fire on the other side of the treeline and so headed that way instead. Yes, that's what must have happened..."

Silence descended on the small group as the barrel of the lorry finally gave way and the fuel within exploded outwards. The noise was so great, the three half wondered if their companions were still talking and they just couldn't hear over the ringing in their ears. The size of the ball of fire that rose into the air was so huge they knew there was no way the elder members of their family had got away in time, a piece of knowledge that was only cemented in their minds when the hoard of infected showed up and began surrounding the lorry from all sides. Anna and Elsa clung even tighter to one another, gasping their shock out to the world.  
"If there was anything alive over there... any sign..." Kristoff quavered, "The infected would be after it, not the fireball."  
"Mom..." Anna whispered.  
"Aunt Ingrid, Aunt Helga..." Elsa choked.

All they could do was stand and watch.

Emma felt like she was running through some sort of sick haunted house style maze. No matter what corner she turned, no matter how fast she ran, the giant, white, monstrosity was never far behind. On all sides, the infected stumbled out of doorways, reached for her and Mary Margaret as they flew past, their moans and sickly sounding breathing creating a ghastly soundtrack to the beating of their feet on the corridor floors. Emma knew they would run a lot faster without their now heavy backpacks, but even though she had never seen the camp Mary Margaret had told her about, had never met the man they were trying to save and therefore would feel no consequence of allowing him to die, a small part of her refused to give up their loot. Maybe she was hoping by delivering the treasure to the people of this camp they would accept her as one of their own, give her company until she could find Neal and Lilley, or maybe she was just desperately clinging to whatever tiny part of her humanity she still had left that separated her from the beings that were reaching for the two women, desperately trying to reach them so they could feast on their flesh.

Whatever the reason, Emma pulled the loose part of the straps of her backpack, pulling them tight as she could so the bag sat more firmly on her back to stop it bashing against her behind painfully with every step. She had no idea where she was leading them, they seemed to turn in every direction, up and down various flights of stairs, through multiple sets of nurses stations, past so many different signs, if she had been paying attention she would have made herself dizzy. All she knew was that they needed to stay ahead of the white mass chasing them because unlike the smaller, ex-human infecteds, she knew there would be no chance of survival if that thing got it's paws on them. With the infecteds, they might stand a chance as long as they kept the teeth away, but if either teeth or claw got too close to them from the thing behind them, they would be done for.

"Emma!" Came the breathless cry of Mary Margaret behind her, shock and panic lacing her name. Emma didn't even try and think about her next actions, she just let her instincts take over and her body react. Spinning round a full 180 degrees, she began sprinting back the way she had come, towards her petite, brunette friend who was facing the looming doom of the creature, now stood still and baring it's icicle-teeth menacingly. Dodging the full canvas bag that slid along the floor past her, Emma pulled her hand back and threw her steel-pole-weapon straight at the beast, impaling it through the head and shooting out the other side. Other than a grunt, there was no indication the thing had been hit at all and after a second it was once again advancing on Mary Margaret. Coming to a skidding stop next to the other woman, Emma reached under her shirt and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the gun hidden in her waistband.

Safety off, cock, aim, fire, kick-back, bring it down, reload, cock, aim, fire - The fluidity of her movements racing through her arms seemed to work as a balm on Emma's nerves. This was normal, easy, she could do this, had done many times in her life and so 6 bullets were sent in quick succession into the thing's abdomen. It was only after about the 3rd shot had rang out that Emma realised the bullets were actually making a difference, the gasp coming from Mary Margaret adding to her confidence as the clawed-dustbin sized paws of the thing wrapped around it's body, holding itself as though in pain. When the final bullet had left the chamber, Emma stood panting, shaking her hand to lessen the dull ache the kick-back of the gun had left her with and both women stood studying the white thing as it seemed to react in pain to the holes the bullets had created.

"... 'The hell?" Emma blew out through heaving gasps, "I threw a metal pole through its head, it didn't even flinch but bullets making holes did?"  
"It doesn't even bleed." Mary Margaret added, sounding like she was about to throw up.

The world lit up orange. All sound seemed to fade away for a moment as a huge mushroom of smoke and hellfire rose above the tree-line at the opposite side of Boston. It was like time stood still for a moment, both women turning to look in horror, wondering what could have happened to cause an explosion like that and hoping whoever had set it off had survived the blast.

But as Mary Margaret looked at the cloud, then at the beast before them, something clicked in her mind. Turning wide eyes to Emma, her mouth began to curl into a small smile at the sides.  
"The bullets are hot." She stated, as though it made all the sense in the world.  
"Yeah, so's the gun." Emma replied, looking down at the barrel, "And as you have no more bullets I'd say we dump the gun and keep going."  
"No, Emma, don't you see?" Mary Margaret excitedly pointed at the white thing. "Mr White over there is made of ice, your bullets are hot! Emma, we can melt him!"  
"Fantastic," Emma sneered, rolling her eyes, "Well you hold open the oven door, Gretel, while I shove him in. This isn't a blind witch, Mary Margaret, it's a giant snowman, how do you propose we set him alight?" She asked, her expression showing exactly what she thought of their conversation being about how to kill a killer snowman.  
"Sorry, still working on that part." Mary Margaret admitted, stepping backwards, her vision now entirely focused on "Mr White" as she had named him, who seemed to be starting to recover from the hot bullets.  
"Well start thinking faster!" Emma ordered as, once again, the two women turned tail and ran.


	6. Chapter 6

The scenery flashing past the windows outside their moving 4 by 4 was there only to taunt Killian Jones, he was sure of it. In his mind, he knew he should be seeing all different shades of green in the leaves and grasses, browns in the tree trunks, even a few other colours mixed in with the wild flowers that had spouted alongside the road, but all he saw were variations of grey. That's when he actually managed to force himself to pay attention, anyway. The rest of the time he was haunted by the memory of the life leaving Milah's eyes, the red that coated her and the world, the gold glinting in her husband's teeth as he laughed mercilessly, watching as his wife was devoured by things that were once people, now no more than walking, rotting corpses. Every now and then when the memories shot bolts of white hot pain down to his heart, he would press a finger into the stump of his left arm, hard enough that the agony would blissfully leave his heart and race over to the stump, burning searing agony into the limb until he hissed through his teeth and Marian would be forced to reach over and pull his hand away, gripping it tightly and telling him he was risking infection playing with the wound so much, pity soaking her gaze.

Mr Smee cried out in shock and the car was brought to an abrupt stand still as the whole world seemed to light up orange. One of the busses that had been following pulled up behind them and a number of the group filed out so they could watch the way the huge mushroom cloud behind them rose into the air, throwing smoke and a stench of burning flesh and petrol up with it.  
"Bugger me." Muttered Alan Dale, running a hand over his head, gaping at the scene before them. "I hope whoever was mad enough to set that up managed to catch a few of the bastards in it."  
"Hear hear." Little John added.

"Alright, that's enough men." Robin ordered, his voice sounding vacant but no less commanding. "We best be getting a move on if we want to make a new camp not over run by the infected."  
"And just where would that be?" Enquired a lady called Mary Ellen, tying her hair back with an elastic she seemed to find in her jeans pocket, adding to the air of practicality she carried about herself.  
"I heard of a place!" Called out a balding, older gentleman named Anthony Munday from the back. "There's a holding set up near Maine since the outbreak. Run by lad called Peter, fancies himself to be a King. They're calling it Never-land. Might be they'll grant us residence? What do you reckon boss?"

"A place called Never-land run by a boy named Peter? Ignoring the obviously crude humour, I think it sounds like a good idea." Marian cut in before her husband could speak, walking round from where she had been sitting in the 4 by 4 slowly, one hand helping support her growing belly. "But we could do with finding a pharmacy, a doctors surgery or something, anywhere we think we might get hold of medicinal drugs."  
"Why, you planning on having a bit of fun, lady?" laughed Anthony, eying her up and down. "Wouldn't say it's a good idea what with you being in your condition." However, his laughter was brought short by a quick slap to the back of the head from Mary Ellen.  
"Not for me! For Jones!" Marian shot back, offence in her eyes. "I may have stopped most of the infection back at our old camp, but he needs pain killers and antibiotics."  
"And a couple of packets of prozac from the look on his face since that Milah went down." Murmured Alan, sighing in pity.

"You want to be wasting resources in finding stuff to help a man that should already be dead?" Little John challenged, turning to face Robin head on.  
"Well of course." Robin countered, glaring Little John right in the eyes. "He's not dead yet and I mean to keep it that way. It's a slippery slope from stopping to help those in need to losing your humanity all together and then what? You're no better than those things we seem to spend our lives running from!"  
"Killian Jones is one of my best friends." Came the sudden voice of Smee, who most of the group seemed to have forgotten about. "Aye, he may have made some questionable decisions in his lovers and his ways of earning a loaf of bread for the table, but he always helped me out when I needed it without me ever having to ask. Heart the size of a bleedin' Kraken, that man, and if we're to believe the world has karma, I'd be proud to be the karma for him."

Back in the car, Killian smiled. With how heavy his whole body felt both from his wound and from the loss of Milah, he didn't feel worthy to join the discussion about what their next move would be. But he heard every word as he watched the firey orange dull down to a smokey red in the mushroom cloud in the sky and learned who out of his new friends he could trust. Marian and Robin he owed his life to, Mr Smee he could always depend on - The short, stocky man was right, Killian had a soft spot for anyone with a look of helplessness about them and after the first few times he had offered an extra dollar to pay Smee's bills, fixing a few odds and ends in the man's apartment and many rum soaked poker nights laughing about anything and nothing, the two had formed a strong friendship so it was no wonder he would stick up for Killian when the going got tough. But to hear Little John be so dismissive of his life, Alan Dale to speak with such pity and the look he could see on Mary Ellen's face as she told Robin and Marian she would provide any help she could to get him back on his feet, even the thick, slower accent of Anthony Munday offering his services to do what he could, Killian was certainly shocked.

In the end though, he was grateful for the conversation as it gave him something to think about other than rewatching the the last few moments of life ebb from Milah again and again in his mind's eye. The idea of a man named Robin with his wife Marian and best friend Little John taking them to a camp named "Never-land" amused him to no end and it wasn't long until he was giggling to himself as his imagination had Robin dressed in green tights and tunic being followed around by Friar Tuck, shooting arrows and cursing the Sheriff of Nottingham.

Marian met her husband's eye in the rearview mirror, his dancing with confused amusement that Jones was actually laughing to himself, hers in worry.  
"Care to share the joke, Jones?" Robin asked over his shoulder as he pulled the 4 by 4 away and back onto the road, watching the raven-haired man in the back seat with the fever dulled eyes and sweaty brow seemly chuckling at his own dim reflection in the window.  
"Killian?" Marian urged, desperately hoping for a sane response. What she got, was a pain filled groan as the car bumbled over a particularly deep pot-hole on the road to Maine as his arm was jostled about, his eyes rolling back into his head and his breathing speeding up. "Hang in there." She whispered, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and using it to try and mop some of the fluid from his brows.

_

Lance sighed as he studied the chipped, green paint on the door before him. It wasn't the chipped paint that weighed on him, nor was it the fact that for the tenth house in a row the owners had had time to lock the door before fleeing the neighbourhood. He sighed because he had been out since the wee hours of the morning, raiding, plundering and ransacking whatever building he came across and had yet to find what he was after. True, he had found all kinds of other useful items - he could not wait to see the look on his love's face when he presented her with a full tube of toothpaste or the small sewing kit he knew she would get so much use out of, but he was still to find a single unopened packet of batteries. Pressing the crowbar he was carrying into the line where door met frame, he began using his weight to push the bar in and to force the line to widen, waiting for the golden crack that meant the lock had given and he could shove his way in.

It had been almost a week since they had last had working batteries, he and Gwen had shouted their despair so loud when the power had finally died in their last working set, just as the man and woman talking on their radio had been about to announce the co-ordinates for their camp. It had been even longer since they last saw another uninfected, alive human being and had taken to narrating everything they did to one another just so they could have the sounds of other voices beyond the ones in their heads to try and stave off the madness a little more.

"We have to keep trying!" Gwen told him every night when he once again returned empty handed. "Every day we don't listen to the station is another day they could be announcing where the camp is that we miss."  
"We don't even know if they're actual, live people talking. For all we know, those people might have died long ago with no-one left to turn off the recording or something." Lance whined back at her, wishing he could convince her to leave the neighbourhoods she had them touring on the outskirts of South Boston, but knowing she was right. The radio show was their only link to someone not dead and they were both feeling the desperation to hear any of their favourite voices once more.

"I think my favourite is Anna." Gwen had declared one night after they had listened to Sydney Glass signing off for the night. "She always has the most interesting stories and her voice is so sweet and comforting. She sounds like she would be best friends with anyone."  
"Yeah, Anna is sweet. That Regina scares the hell out of me. I can see why they made her Mayor!" Lance had replied, laying back on his elbows as he chewed a hunk of plain bread. "I think when we get there, I'll either join the guys working on construction, or that Anton guy who runs the farm."  
"I can't wait to meet him, if only so I can try that 5 bean chilli he keeps talking about!" Gwen had laughed, the sound hollow and the smile on her face miles away from ever reaching her eyes.

"Lance, what are we going to do if their camp is across the country, in Dallas or San Francisco or something?" Gwen had whispered a few days later as they sat on the roof of a house, watching another hoard pass by them harmlessly - they had long ago learnt the importance of locking up the house they were currently staying in and staying deathly silent during the macabre processional shuffle of hundreds of the infected.  
"We think ourselves lucky we have something to aim for, somewhere to go." Lance had murmured back, "There'll be many more out there that have no clue camps like that even exist. They'll be stuck in places they feel fairly safe, battling to collect water, gather enough food and keep the infecteds out long enough to survive, hopefully with enough mouths to make conversation to keep themselves sane."  
"I hate this." She had quietly groaned on his shoulder, both of them feeling a little stir crazy from staying in the same place for so long.

With a creak and a shatter of glass, the peeling painted green door in front of him gave way and Lance managed to shove his way into the main hallway of this new house, breathing a sigh of relief, which he almost immediately coughed back up as the long-settled dust in the house entered his nose and irritated every inch of his gullet on the way down to his lungs. Chastising himself for the rooky mistake, he shook his head and began walking through the house, his feet kicking up tiny puffs of dust as they made contact with the ground.

"Man, these people lived good." He muttered to himself, spying the 50inch television mounted on the living room wall, suspended above a number of gaming consoles. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, he wandered over to the shelving unit next to the set up and started opening drawers, cupboard doors, anywhere he thought he might find something useful. Pocketing random spare fuses, rolls of duct tape, tiny screwdrivers and even a few fishing hooks he thought could come in handy at some point, he moved his search into the kitchen, expecting to search every drawer, cupboard, nook and cranny he could for their much needed batteries.

Instead, he found himself frozen to the floor just inside the room, his eyes huge and full of excitement as he spotted the massive RV campervan outside the kitchen window.  
"No way..." He breathed to himself, spotting a row of keys hanging from a shelf, hunting for the one most likely used for the van outside. Locating the one that looked most likely, he slipped out through the door at the back of the room (Cursing himself when he realised the damn thing was unlocked, why didn't he try it before wasting time breaking into the front?) and crept up to the door of the campervan, giving a silent dance of victory when the key slid in effortlessly and allowed him access.

It took all of 10 minutes for Lance to discover the mother of all battery stashes, another 5 to ascertain the van had gas in its tank and a whole 20 seconds to deliberate with himself about whether he should drive the thing back to where Gwen was waiting for him. Gathering his supplies and other odds and ends he never normally would have considered a good idea taking - extra pillows and cushions, blankets, towels, even a couple of changes of clothes for both him and his love - he was soon on the road again, humming tunes long since silenced by the infection. The only thing he feels he is missing when he meets up with Gwen once more is a camera so he could capture the look of pure joy that shines from her features as she takes in the RV when he pulls up beside her. If he had been killed in that moment, he would have died a very happy man.

"Lance, you brought me a home!" Gwen squealed, running up and throwing herself into his arms.  
"That isn't even the half of it, milady." He had told her, taking her hand and leading her up and into the main body of the van. Pulling his favourite drawer open, he presented her with his mother-load stash of batteries, instantly regretting doing so as the gasp Gwen pulled in was so huge it almost caused her to collapse and him to swing an arm around her waist for fear of her falling and hitting her head. After taking a moment or two to come round, Gwen turned her huge, excitement filled eyes to Lance and breathed "Let's find out the location of our new home, finally!"  
"Only problem is, this place is pretty empty of food." Lance explained, gesturing to the rest of the cupboards he knew were empty and thinking of their meagre stash of food from their camp. "We could do with going a supply run before we do anything."  
"Well, we have a moving home now." Gwen told him, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a sweet peck on the lips. "We can drive into Boston. I'll listen to whatever radio broadcasts I can find about Storybrooke while you're driving. We can both jump out and collect whatever we can find in terms of food, then when we're all stocked up, we can head out in the direction Regina tells us to."

"If the lady desires it, then so it shall be." Lance told her, hooking his hands under her bottom and lifting her up, Gwen letting out a peal of laughter before she bent down to kiss him once more in celebration of the successful day they had just shared.

_

"Emma, this way!" Came the panting breath of Mary Margaret over the pounding of their feet on the corridor floors. Emma felt like they had been running for a whole year when it couldn't have been more than a few minutes in reality. She was very aware her new friend was leading her deeper and deeper into the hospital when all her instincts were screaming at her to run in the opposite direction and out into the open.

"You said it yourself," gasped Mary Margaret, "That thing speeds up when we go in straight lines. Besides, I have an idea. You just have to trust me."  
"Do I have any choice?" Emma huffed back, making sure to keep the flash of Mary Margaret's pastel pink cardigan and white culottes in view at all times. Another humongous, growling bellow sounded behind them, both women ducking their heads slightly to flinch away from the sudden noise.

Barrelling through a set of double doors ahead, Emma's vision was filled with white and chrome, the sterile kitchen environment enveloping her in a stench of grease and fat, the very air seeming to cling to her in a way only commercial kitchens ever can. Mary Margaret was already turning knobs on the stoves before them.  
"You said about ovens, Emma... These are all gas powered." Turning a dramatic smiling face back to the blonde, a glint in her eye, Mary Margaret turned another knob to full power before shouting to Emma, "Let's light this baby up!"

It took a matter of seconds for both women to get every burner in the kitchen spewing out gas, the fumes quickly going to Emma's head and making her feel woozy. Noticing some of the fire precaution tools tacked to the wall, she tugged one into her arms, pulled the straps of her backpack a little higher and tried to ignore how much closer the beast sounded, the thumping footfalls seeming to be come from just the other side of the doorway.  
"So how do you propose we both get out while Mr. White stays in here?" Emma asked Mary Margaret as the two began inching their way along the back wall to another set of double doors.  
"With a bit of luck and Mr. Zippo, of course." Mary Margaret replied, holding up the stainless steel lighter, her fingers well away from the now deadly trigger.  
"You smoke?" Was all Emma could think of to say before the brunette was screaming, "Hey, Snowman, we're in here!"

The front doors of the kitchen flew off their hinges as the women crept through the back doors, hand in hand as Mary Margaret flicked the lid off the lighter and almost casually tossed it back into the room they had just come from. Emma had just enough time to free the fire blanket she had stolen from the kitchen wall and wrap it around themselves before the gas caught and filled the room behind them with orange, red and blue flickers of death. Steam quickly covered the ceiling and the world seemed to be made up of hissing sounds and higher temperatures than either woman was comfortable with.  
"Oh God, we have to get out of here." Emma heaved, opening their fire proof cocoon long enough to spot a window to their right. "Over there!" She motioned with a jerk of her head, pulling slightly on the sheet covering them so they could sprint for the window. Grabbing hold of whatever hard object she could get her hands on, Emma made quick work of the glass, smashing her way to the outside world and the cool air that was immediately soothing on both their sweaty faces.

"Well... Emma..." Mary Margaret gulped, "That was certainly an adventure, but let's never do that again."  
"You got it sister." Emma replied, a fit of giggles soon taking over and before they knew it, both women were doubled over, hands on their knees and bodies trembling with laughter at their close escape.  
"So," Mary Margaret finally said, wiping a hand under her eyes to catch tears of laughter and sweat that was beading on her cheeks, "To Storybrooke?"  
"Lead the way." Emma answered, dropping her hands from where she had been copying Mary Margaret's swiping motion, swinging her hand outward and grinning at her new friend once more.


	7. Chapter 7

As they drove through the main streets of Boston, Lance tried desperately not to rev the engine too high, keeping all sound to a minimum. Even Gwen had turned the radio off, fearing Sydney Glass' overly cheerful run down of the day-to-day life in Storybrooke would give away their location to any infecteds who might be milling around. Just as they had entered the city, two women had flown past on a motorcycle, one a petite brunette in pink and white and the other in tight jeans and a vest top with a curtain of beautiful blonde hair streaming behind her looking much more comfortable to be on such a vehicle than her riding partner. Lance had been close to turning their camper-van around to follow the two women - the first two either of them had seen in months, but it only took one look in the side mirror to realise they were moving at such a speed that Lance and Gwen didn't stand a chance of catching up before they lost sight of them.

"I can't decide which of them looks more likely to die first," Gwen had muttered snidely to Lance, "Little Miss 12-year-old-boy or Miss-Blonde-Beautiful-High-and-Mighty."  
"Gwen, don't be awful!" Lance had laughed at her, knowing her spiteful words came from jealousy. If anyone had asked Lance who the most beautiful woman in the world was, he would have immediately said Gwen, with her shining black hair and creamy dark skin, eyes that were almost black and her slender figure, but he knew she didn't see it that way.

Had they been anywhere else, the two would have devolved into a debate as to what it was better to look like before the infection took over versus after, but as they allowed the wheels of their van to take them further into the devastation of the city, neither could find a word to say. Barely any of the windows still had glass, many of the doors had been blown off their hinges and litter blew along the streets like sand in the desert. Not a sign of life, either human or animal, could be seen anywhere, just the odd, rotten, gormless faced infected here and there. Gwen gasped and had to turn away as they passed a starved looking infected who could not have been more than 4 years old when they had contracted the virus, clutching what was once upon a time a much loved, stuffed, white rabbit that was now so filthy it almost looked brown, with one ear missing and the stuffing leaking from its belly and the owner snarled at their camper van driving passed.

But then, Lance tapped her shoulder determinedly, pointing in front of them when she turned her wary gaze to follow where he was gesturing and caught his intention quickly. The vehicle ahead must have once been a school bus, the bright yellow exterior and dark interior seats easy to recognise and both adults eagerly thought of the tank that could still be full of gas. Having received a tiny nod of ascent from Gwen, Lance pulled over to a halt just behind the bus and cut the engine, opening the doors as quietly as possible, having armed himself with the long handled wrench they had found in a cupboard in their new home. Gwen followed close behind, dragging some plumbing apparatus she must have ripped from the plumbing of one of the homes they were previously living in, the pipe the perfect size for siphoning gas out of the bus and into their camper van.

"Give me the wrench, I am not getting this thing started." Gwen hissed lowly to Lance, holding out the piping and an empty hand she obviously expected Lance to fill with wrench.  
"It's perfectly easy to do," Lance told her as he pulled open the gas cap and began feeding the piping into the awaiting hole. "You just have to suck on this end until you get the liquid to the top of the pipe, then move it into the jerry can here." He told her, nudging the can slightly toward her with his foot to accentuate his point.  
"Lance, I am not drinking gasoline." Gwen told him, all trade of humour gone from her voice.  
"Gwen, you have 2 choices," Lance sighed, "One, you siphon the gas from the bus or two, you hold the wrench and bury it into the brains of any infecteds that walk nearby, meaning you will probably get blood and guts all over your clothing and I will not be stopping for you to have a shower before we get to the camp."

"Or three, you back away from the bus, slowly, drop your weapons, get on the floor with your hands behind your heads and no-one has to get hurt." Came a new voice from behind them, causing both Gwen and Lance to freeze in place.  
"No harm meant, friend," Lance replied back, proud of how steady he managed to keep his voice even as his mind was whirring with the knowledge that Gwen was in danger behind him, probably being threatened by some form of weapon, not being able to confirm his suspicions while the masculine, British accented voice came from behind him, sounding like the newcomer had no aversion to planting a pair of bullets between their eye sockets. "We had no idea that bus belonged to anyone, we just got to town you see."

"Be that as it may, you are still to follow my instructions." The newcomer informed them, a slight huff coming from Gwen like she had been poked in the back with something hard and sharp. "On the floor, hands behind your heads, now."  
"Lance..." Warned a very scared sounding Gwen, a little closer behind than the man. "He's holding a gun to my back." She breathed, knocking slightly against Lance to let him know she had every intention to follow the orders being given.  
"Just so you know," Lance growled, lacing his own voice with as much threat as he could muster, "Shoot the lady and you are a dead man."  
"Understandable." The man laughed as the two sank down first to their knees, then down to lay on the floor, their cheeks pressed against the asphalt.

Finally able to see their assailant, Lance found himself surprised. The man had a kindly face, sandy coloured hair, a lean body, and most frustratingly, was not holding a whole fun at all, but rather the barrel of a shotgun, missing the rest and most deadliest parts of the weapon.  
"Now, that's more like it." He smiled at Lance, stepping over Gwen, but holding a hand up and over her to show he was still very much the authoritative figure in this scene. "Pleased to meet you both. Name's Robin Locksley. As much as I would like to invite you to join me and my friends for some food, I can't simply walk back with you after you tried stealing something as vital as gas from us. Sadly, I will have to take you both as hostages. I do hope you understand."

With a whoosh and a thwack, the steel gun barrel in Robin's hand flew through the air and struck first Lance, then Gwen, sending the world into darkness for the two lovers as they fell into unconsciousness.

_

Mary Margaret did not react to the couple in the camper van they passed on their way out of Boston, so Emma put them out of her mind. As much as she was pleased to see another couple of living, uninfected people, she knew they were heading to a camp filled with humans so the two in a camper van seemed pretty insignificant at this point. If she had been the one driving the bike, she probably would have followed them, stopped and asked if they wanted to travel to Storeybrooke with herself and Mary Margaret, but it was the latter that was driving and it was also not Emma's place to be inviting people back to a camp she had never been to before. So she stayed quiet, watched the world flashing before her eyes and tried to wonder what her new home would look like.

It felt like days later when they finally drove past a sign reading "Welcome to Storeybrooke! All survivors welcome." written in badly spray painted text over what had once been a welcome sign for an entirely different named town. She couldn't help but have another giggle to herself, wondering if it was the kind hearted, soft spoken Mary Margaret who had re-named the town after a storybook or one of the other residents.

Of which, there was a lot more than she was expecting. As they had crossed the town line, Mary Margaret had begun pointing out local landmarks, such as the road that cut off and lead to the Toll-bridge, which had apparently gained the nickname "Troll Bridge" to keep with the theme of the name of the town, a clearing just visible through the trees at the side of the road that had been transformed into what looked like a very successful produce farm, a dilapidated looking building with a water wheel that Mary Margaret swore supplied the whole camp with electricity for cooking and lights, before they finally hit the more commercial part of town. Over on the right, there, was Granny's diner, run by the formidable Widow Lucas who insisted everyone call her "Granny", and who had somehow created a deep fryer that was heated by coals like a barbeque, a shop that must have once sold clothes now with an impressively huge steel structure on the top to function as a radio broadcasting building and a police station that actually seemed to have a few people working inside.

Soon enough, Mary Margaret pulled the motorcycle up to the worst looking building Emma had ever seen. The front had once clearly held a clean cut, well designed foyer for some form of business or another, but now it was being used as a store room of sorts. Half the women moving in and out of the cracked glass doors were wearing nun's habits, one or two had on hospital scrubs and the rest must have been residents of the camp, looking haggard and bloody. On the outside, the building had been added to, with crudely fashioned corridors leading to the other buildings on either side and the whole place was surrounded with deadly looking steel spikes and traps. As much as the glass was smashed, bricks were missing and the whole place looked as if it could use a good lick or 10 of paint, the buzz of activity and the general air surrounding the place gave it a safe feeling, almost sanctuary-esque.

"This is our hospital, so to speak." Mary Margaret explained as she dropped the legs of the bike and helped Emma to climb off and drop to the pot-holed tarmac of the car park. "Most of the sisters came here with me and Mother Superior from the hospital we were just in. The place used to be this tiny little clinic, but Graham, David and a couple of the other guys have added to it over time as Dr. Walsh requested. It's quite big now."  
"Yeah, I can see that." Emma replied, aware how full of awe her voice sounded and not caring as she let her gaze sweep over the hastily put together sprawling maze of what had become a bustling, affective emergency and medical centre.

Emma had to trot off after Mary Margaret to keep up, chasing after a woman walking down one of the added on corridors. She had dark hair pulled up into a sensible knot at the base of her skull, which matched well with the sensible shoes, sensible length blue skirt and long sleeved, navy blue jumper she wore. Emma was not surprised in the least when Mary Margaret called out "Mother Superior!", causing the woman to turn to face them. Her large, blue eyes and kind lips grew in size to a beaming smile and she dashed over to envelope Mary Margaret in a warm, comforting looking hug.

"Mary Margaret, we were so worried when you didn't show up for your round this morning." The woman said in a soft voice with a no-nonsense accent.  
"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you, Mother Superior. I went out to get supplies." She explained, hiking her bag slightly higher on her back before turning and gesturing for Emma to join them. "This is Emma, she helped me out there and I'm planning on asking Regina to allow her to stay with us."  
"It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Emma." Mother Superior told Emma, putting one foot behind her and giving a small curtsy. "It's so rare we have new faces in this city. Please, won't you both join me?"

The three women continued down the corridor, Emma finding it hard to not look around her in amazement at what these people had built in such a short time and such dire circumstances.  
"What supplies did you manage to find, Mary Margaret?" Mother Superior enquired, almost like she was asking about the weather outside. "I know the nearest store outside of the camp lines was swept clean for women's sanitary products, basic pain killers and food. How far did you go out?"  
"Boston General..." Mary Margaret told her, wincing when Mother Superior's wide blue eyes snapped to Mary Margaret's own emerald greens, her jaw going slightly slack in horror.  
"You went WHERE?" The Abbess exclaimed, pulling the attention of a number of other Sisters and doctors as they strode past.  
"It's not that big of a deal..." Mary Margaret tried to sooth, but the other woman's eyebrows were still lost in her hairline as her face was taken over by dark, vicious storm clouds.  
"Mary Margaret, what were you thinking?"  
"I was thinking we needed anti-biotics, stronger pain relief, Anti-septics, Antipyretics, heck even adrenaline or intubation apparatus. I was thinking I could raid any of the store rooms that are still full and just grab whatever I could. Maybe if I got enough good stuff, I might get to go out again under the advisory of Dr Whale and Regina so I can save people."

"Dr Whale will be doing what now?" Came a new, male voice from one of the men who had been walking past wearing a white lab coat and stethoscope. Ignoring the t-shirt with 'Is there a Doctor in the house?!' slashed across the front in giant, neon letters and the hair that looked as though it had been cut with a knife and fork then spiked up using an entire bottle of Elmers glue, Dr Whale had intelligent looking blue eyes, ringed in blue and purple and the calm, collected air of someone who knew precisely what they were doing.  
"Victor," Mother Superior breathed in relief, "Mary Margaret and Emma here went beyond the town line without authorisation and raided Boston General."  
"Oh really? What did you get your hands on?" The Doctor asked, those eyes lighting up and his lips pulling into the most hopeful smile Emma had seen on anyone in a long time.  
"So much stuff, Doctor!" Mary Margaret trilled, looking delighted.  
"Victor, we should not be encouraging this kind of behaviour." Mother Superior admonished, looking surprised.

"Victor, Dr. Whale, I wanted to do something to help August." Mary Margaret explained, holding out the bag so he could rifle through and see if she had indeed picked up anything useful. "Me and Emma grabbed whatever looked right and got back as fast as we could. How is he?"  
"Honestly, I have no clue." Dr Whale sighed, the light dissipating from his face as quickly as it had appeared to be replaced with a grim honesty. "It's hard to judge properly when I don't have any of the equipment or lab teams I'm used to. He's perfectly stable for now, but I can't determine how far progressed the infection really is or in how bad a shape his kidneys really are. Best we can do is monitor his urine and hope for the best. Although looking in this rucksack, Mary Margaret, I really think you may have saved his life. There's a good few options in here I can use on him and this one in particular," he held up a box that looked like it contained a bottle of children's Tylenol, "is going to be especially useful for him. This is a form of morphine so should go some way to reducing his pain and making him more comfortable."  
"Oh I'm so pleased!" Mary Margaret gushed, a huge smile spreading on her face. "It sounds like you've moved a fair way in his treatment though, so you have been able to confirm it's definitely a kidney infection then?"  
"Yes, we have. Why don't you come with me to visit him? Marco hasn't left his side today and I don't doubt he will appreciate the company."

With that, Emma and Mary Margaret hurried on after the Doctor, completely forgetting Mother Superior in seeing their goal of saving this August to the very end. Entering a room that could easily have been an office in a previous life, Emma found herself once again impressed. Off to the immediate right, an aged man was resting in a computer chair, a ratty looking blanket covering him and his head propped up by his arm on a side table, his gentle snores filling the room. Next to him was a line reaching from an IV bag hanging from a hook on the wall down to a thirty-something man who was laid out on the hospital gurney in the middle of the room. He was covered in a thin blanket also, but just peeking out over the top, Emma could see a hospital robe, both looking clean and fresh. The man's sweaty, brown hair was pushed to the side so his pale, pained face was visible easily, looking almost as though he could be asleep if it wasn't for the furrow to his brow, the way his breaths were coming in short, harsh gasps and his knuckles were almost white where they gripped his bedding.

"Good afternoon, Master Booth." Dr Whale greeted him, gesturing for Mary Margaret to drop the bag on the floor so he could extract everything he would need.  
"We're the same age, you prick, what's with the 'Master Booth' bull-?" Booth snapped, but the grin on his face told Emma he wasn't being serious.  
"It's called bed-side service, asshole." Victor replied, a mischievous glint in his eye and a toothy grin on his mouth.  
"So long as it stays bed-side, I'll deal." August gave a laugh that quickly dissolved into an agony filled groan.

"August, my boy! Where are you?" Came the sudden voice of Marco, who had woken in response to the sound of his son's pain.  
"Right where you left me pops. I'm fine." August quickly called, calming the old man who got to his feet and hurried to take August's hand in his, pulling it to his lips and kissing the back, never taking his worried expression from August.  
"Close your eyes, open wide, Booth." Whale recited, holding up a needle-less syringe full of a thick, completely clear substance and approaching the bed.  
"Oh God, tell me that came from a hospital and not your body, Whale." August groaned back, turning his face away like a child.  
"Now, now, August, we have ladies present." Victor rebuked, gripping August's face tightly in his hand and turning it toward himself, shoving the end of the syringe unceremoniously into August's mouth and pushing the plunger, effectively dumping the whole measure of liquid into his mouth.

"My apologies, ladies, didn't mean to be rude." August said around a swallow, his eyes going slightly wide and his tongue flicking out searching for any missed drops of the substance. "Damn that stuff tastes good. More?"  
"Only so much fruit juice I can take to make it taste nice." Victor joked, wrapping the syringe in tissue and placing it almost reverently back in the bag. "That was 15mg of morphine, August. Give it 3 minutes and the pain should ebb away. Can't go giving you any more though, old friend, really, I should have only given you 10, but thought you could use the treat."  
"Did I ever tell you how much I love you, man?" August replied, all the previous humour leaving his voice to be replaced with soft spoken affection as his eyes began to glaze over slightly, the first sign the drug was taking effect.

Emma felt metaphorical whiplash at how quickly the mood in the room had changed, from bantering joviality, thinly veiling the desperation and pain to gentle, kind hearted love and relief from all the people she was watching. Silent tears were slipping through the wrinkles in Marco's cheeks, his gaze flicking from relief filled joy as his son's face melted into contentment, to intense gratitude as he looked back at the doctor, who was watching August carefully, a small smile of his own playing on his lips.

"No need, dude. I'm aware." Victor murmured, clapping a hand on August's shoulder. "Same right back at you." He finished before ducking back down to the bag, pulling out more boxes, some of pills he fed to August, some of liquid he squirted into the IV bag, explaining to Marco that of course August was slipping into unconsciousness, the guy had been awake 4 days in severe pain. Right now, he needed rest, pain relief and time for the medicines being distributed to do their job and save him.

When the job was done and the room was now filled with August's steady, slow breaths, Whale jerked his head to the door, silently asking the whole room to follow him and leave his patient in peace. Without another word, the whole group walked out of the door, delivered the two bags to the nearest area being used for a nurses station where Whale stayed to begin ordering where each of the medicines were to be distributed.

Mary Margaret, Emma and Marco ended up sticking together, Mary Margaret leading them away from the makeshift hospital and back down the road to Granny's diner, where they grabbed a table for the three of them and ordered food. Emma felt like she was reading a novel for the first time, looking through the selection of meals Granny's had to offer - from the most simple bacon sandwich, to 5 bean chili, Jambalaya, Thai Green curry and even a choice of deep fried side dishes.

"Oh God, Grilled cheese with onion rings, please!" She almost screamed at the pretty waitress girl who came to take their food orders, a huge, smug grin taking over her features as she flipped her long, brunette hair behind her back and stalked off in her too-short, bright red mini-skirt when all three had placed their orders.

"Mrs Nolan, you forever hold my gratitude, Dear lady." Marco's strong, Italian accent floated across the table when they were once again alone. "I don't know what I would have done if August... if he hadn't..."  
"Marco, it's ok." Mary Margaret cut him off, reaching out to grab hold of his slender hand and rub a calming thumb over his knuckles. "It's what friends are for. I've been trying to find a way to help August ever since I heard he was sick. I'm just pleased I was actually able to help."  
"Either way, I beg you, if there is anything I can do for you or your husband, let me know and I will do it. Same for you, my girl, whatever I can do, let me know and it shall be done." He added, glancing over at Emma and giving her a look that reminded her of a grandad, looking at his grandchild with such pride and love. For an orphan girl who wasn't even sure where she was born, it was almost too much for her to handle, meaning she was even more relieved when their plates arrived.

As soon as she caught sight of her order, her mouth flooded and her stomach growled in excitement. It didn't take long for her to begin devouring the hot, gooey squares of perfection on her plate, groaning as the battered rings of onion coated her mouth with delicious flavour such as she had not experienced since the virus outbreak. The golden toast surrounding the cheesy mess crunched in just the way she liked and she was so invested in her meal she did not notice the dark shadow descend over the table, silencing all conversation around them.

"Mr Booth, what a surprise to see you outside of the hospital." Came the clipped, deep tones of a woman. "Mrs Nolan, I believe the two of us need to talk. If you and your food-gasming new friend over here will follow me to my office in Town Hall."


	8. Chapter 8

Killian felt like he was trying to lift a mountain, the mammoth task he had decided to undertake making him want to give up and go back to the safe, comfortable blackness he was coming from. But the thought pissed him off, angered him that he was finding it so hard to open his own damn eyelids. Groaning out his frustration, he finally managed to let in a sliver of light, desperately trying to ignore how his tongue felt like Velcro stuck to the roof of his mouth as he blinked hard and attempted eye-opening-number-2.

"Hey, this guy's waking up." He heard a female voice he didn't reconise call out from next to him.

There was some shuffling, then a solid, round mass pressed against his hand as an icy cold blissness touched against his forehead.  
"Killian? Killian, can you hear me?" Came the voice of Marian Locksley, her breath ghosting over his skin and the mass against his hand shifted slightly, something kicking against him.  
"I must have been out a while, even your unborn child is trying to rouse me." He joked, stretching out his sore and aching muscles a little and attempting to sit up a bit better. A pair of hands appeared under his arms and started pulling slightly, helping him sit as smooth ceramic touched against his lip.  
"Water. Drink." Ordered Robin, tipping the container slightly so a drop of blissful fluid ran against his parched tongue.

Lifting his right hand, Killian grabbed hold of Robin's wrist like his life depended on it, and probably by this point it did, forcing the cup upwards so more of the refreshing nectar filled his mouth, running down his throat and lubricating everything along the way.  
"Easy there, old boy, steady," Robin cooed, brushing locks of sweaty, inky black hair from Killian's forehead and resting his palm against the man's cheek to help hold him up as he drank. "You've been out for days. While I know you must be gagging for a drink, you can't go too fast or you'll bring it all back up again."

Killian soon heeded Robin's word, feeling his belly start to slosh with each gulp he took, he let go of the other man's wrist and pulled back, gasping as he did so and reaching up to wipe the excess off his now substantial facial hair with his left hand, which gave a sharp jolt of pain, causing him to hiss in confusion for a second, until it came flooding back.  
"Oh, right, hand." He admitted, holding out his decidedly shorter left arm for his scrutiny, wrapped tightly in fabric and bandaging, but surprisingly looking clean. "How long have I been out?" He asked, watching Robin retreat to the gathered group on the other side of the room as a cool, damp cloth was applied to his neck, a moan of pleasure escaping his lips at the feeling.

"A few days now." Marian explained as he turned to watch her, her brown eyes looking deep into his blue ones as though trying to read his mind through them. "We were getting worried you might never wake. Alan Dale was about 12 hours away from dumping a bucket of ice water over your head to see if that might wake you."  
"You know, judging from the smell, I don't think I'd be too opposed to that, mate." Killian informed the group, hoping Alan was one of the members that were now giggling their amusement and relief that he had woken up.  
"If you're a real good boy, I might even heat it up a little." Mary Ellen replied with a smile in her voice.  
"But if you're not, it'll be me warming it up. A couple good farts ought to do it." Added Anthony Munday to the disgusted groans of the rest of the group and a clean sounding slap that came from Mary Ellen whacking her hand against his arm playfully.

Killian finally managed to get his eyes all the way open and to actually focus on his surroundings. His compatriots were seated around what looked like a firepit, each holding a steaming tin of questionable content, but all with friendly, relieved looks on their faces. Mr Smee sat amongst them, beaming like he was seeing the sun for the first time and it was shining right from Killian's arse, next to him was a little lump, snoring softly with the dark, soft curls of Roland Locksley sticking out of one end and his small shoes out the other, causing Killian to sigh in a little relief knowing someone had been watching the little lad carefully through everything that had happened recently. Robin stood off to the side of the group, holding up a cup of something in toast to Killian, and to the immediate left, the still heavily pregnant Marian was dabbing at any patch of skin she could with that intoxicatingly refreshing wet rag. As much as he was pleased to see his awakening had brought such joy to the group, he couldn't help but notice that, although there was a couple nearby him tied to a pair of chairs with rough lengths of rope, everyone seemed in good health and entirely able-bodied. All except him.

"Marian," He asked, "What the bloody hell am I doing here? Why have you been lugging my useless self around with you? Why didn't you just leave me behind? Use me as bait against the infecteds or something?"  
"The world is a very different place to the one we both grew up in, Killian Jones," she told him, dipping the wet fabric back into a bowl at her side and wringing the water out before bringing it back to his body - his chest this time - to carry on her work. "But all life has always been precious. Perhaps even more so now. Besides, Mr Smee was rather insistent in telling us you are one of the good guys, one of the ones who deserves saving. It appears you make quite the impression on your friends."  
"Which intrigues me." Robin joined in, coming to kneel beside Killian once again. "I want to see what all the fuss is about. From what has been said, it sounds to be like I would be a fool not to call you a friend."

"Friends usually do things to help one another," Killian debated back, "So far, you've done nothing but save my life and I have done nothing but cause a disturbance to yours."  
"All friendships have to start somewhere." Robin contested. "and if you will allow it, I would like to start a long and fruitful one with you. Starting with you getting some nourishment in you." At this, he held out one of the steaming tins that was lacking a label but could easily be made out to be spaghetti and sausage. The food reminded him of being a young child, his brother scraping together what pennies he could to afford any form of food for them and the thought of his brother and such a nostalgic meal coming from a source of such friendliness caused Killiam to relax and grin.

"Aye, Mate, I think I can do that." He replied, taking the food from Robin and allowing the good vibes of the room fill him and begin to soften a couple of the raw, devastating wounds in his heart from the loss of her...

No... he wasn't going to think of her, wasn't going to let his broken, mangled heart twist the good memories he was creating here amongst so many who would call him friend. He believed himself not foolish enough to think he deserved it, but Killian Jones was also never one to look a gift horse in the mouth either. The group before him had fallen back into their small talk, discussing tiny details of plans that would never happen, comparing their present lives to their past, even going so far as to chat about the weather. With the help of Marian and Robin, he managed to strip off his shirt and use the water and rag to wash some of the stale sweat and dirt from his torso and arms, the water that had started out as feeling cool and welcoming when he had first woken up now feeling frigid and sharp. Mentioning this, Robin called over Little John, who placed the back of his meaty hand against Killian's forehead and declared him still to be feverish, although mildly better than he was earlier.

"I'm still sick?" Killian groaned, turning away from everyone and trying very hard to ignore the uncomfortable churning his belly was now doing in reacting to being filled with fluid and food.  
"You had your hand cut off, doused in rum, cauterised with a hot, metal spoon and no sign of a blood transfusion or anything that would really work as an antibiotic to stop infection." Robin informed him, "I'm seriously impressed you're not a lot more horizontal right now."  
"Robin, hand me that bucket over there?" Marian suddenly demanded, a fact Killian was eternally grateful for as the churning got too much and everything he had put in his body in the last hour quickly came shooting back out the way it had come, thankfully, into the bucket Marian now held fast on the floor in front of him.

"I'm so sorry, m'lady." He grumbled, growling loudly before sitting back up and once again fighting for breath.  
"I'm a mother of a 4 year old that is 6 months pregnant and suffered the worst morning sickness both times." Marian told him as she handed the bucket back to Robin to dispose of and began fussing with the blankets covering Killian to cover him. "It'll take a lot more than a bit of vomit in a bucket to scare me off."  
"Anyone got a spare toothbrush for poor old Jones?" Mary Ellen put across to the group, voice full of sympathy and face pulled tight with tension when she realised no-one was talking up to say they did.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I saw a pharmacy just down the block here," Smee stated, "I could always run back down there and pick up a couple of things."  
"Not on your own you're not." Robin immediately replied, the order made even more clear in the serious stare he shot to the portly man in his red beanie and hooded jacket.  
"It's not that far, though. Look, you can see it from this window here." Smee answered, standing up to take Robin over to the window on the far wall and pointing to a store front a few buildings down. "See? It's the one with the red cross symbol on the floor in front."

"X marks the spot for pirates, Mate." Killian shouted, giggling a little and causing the whole party to once again look at him with worry.  
"Be...sides, I'll bet there will be some useful things in there for the ladies too." Smee continued, "Hand wash and sanitizer, menstruation items and such..."  
"Wait, wait, wait," Mary Ellen piped up, holding up a hand to stop Smee's mini speech. "You mean to tell me you would genuinely risk your life to grab a toothbrush for Jones and tampons for me? And that doesn't make you feel awkward at all?"  
"If there's one thing Jones has taught me in life, it's that being a gentleman to any and all women you meet is good form and should always be practiced." Smee told her, puffing his chest out slightly in pride, "You girls have really caught the short straw here. What do us guys have to worry about? Loo roll for the occasional bathroom visit, but other than that it's considered manly to smell a bit and what have you. But the gift of mother nature in this environment has gotta suck and I imagine it would be bad for catching infections too."  
"We already know the infecteds can hear us," Marian added, "if we have a bleeding woman with us, who knows? They might be able to track by smell and that is definitely something we do not want."  
"Ignoring the grossness of that sentence..." Alan Dale muttered, putting his tin of food down as he began to look a little green round the gills.  
"What, did your mummy never teach you the facts of life, Dale?" Mary Ellen cackled loudly, thoroughly enjoying the discomfort the men of the group were exhibiting at this conversation.

"See? There's so much stuff I could get for us!" Smee exclaimed happily, turning to Robin. "I'll even see if I can grab a soft toy or something for the little lad. You've saved my ass and my best friend's too and like Killian said, we've barely done a thing for you guys that hasn't caused more trouble. Let me do this one thing to make myself useful to you all."  
"You don't need to pick up tampons to be useful to us, honey!" Mary Ellen called out, causing both Smee and Robin to smile slightly. Robin then let out a harsh huff of breath.  
"Alright, fine." He consented finally. "You can go to the pharmacy. But ONLY the pharmacy, and if something happens you have to cry out, make sure we can hear you so we can come to your aid."  
"Of course, of course." Smee replied, nodding his head with enthusiasm.

_

Peeking round the door at the bottom of the building the rest of the group were staying, Mr Smee held the crowbar he had been armed with a little higher ready for any infecteds that might be lurking round the corner to attack. Seeing none, he took a few cautious steps out into the street, turning round once he was in the middle to give a thumbs up to Robin and Alan Dale who were watching him closely through the window. Alan Dale raised his hand in greeting back, Robin ducking his head slightly in acknowledgement before turning to look up the street to make sure nothing was heading in their direction.

Heaving a large breath, Smee dropped his hand and began moving forward towards the store he had motioned to earlier, feeling skitterish about how quiet everything was out here; not a single moan or shuffling footstep to alert him to the presence of infecteds. Moving as carefully and quietly as he could, he approached the door and glanced inside, cursing at how dark it was. He could see the ends of a couple of blocks of shelves, but trying to look down the aisles themselves was like trying to see into a black hole, there was not a scrap of light he could use to see by. Swinging back so his back was pressed against the brick just next to the door on the outside, he took a few more deep breaths as he sent a prayer up to whatever deity might be listening that he could get back to his friends before he allowed an air of steely determination overtake him and ducked inside the store.

The silence was almost echoing and again, he raised the crowbar just that little bit higher as though more confidence would flood into him the more elevated the crowbar was. Shuffling a few steps further into the store, he began to feel a little better when he was surrounded on both sides by shelves, even with the meagre supplies that had been left behind by previous looters. Now he was actually in the dark, he realised it wasn't as oppressive as he had originally thought, helped by the fact there was a double door at the other end that led out into the street perpendicular to the street with the building containing the rest of his group.

He soon came across an aisle filled entirely with toiletries; toothpaste and brushes, deodorant, anti-bacterial hand gel and what he was actually looking for - the feminine hygiene products. However, as soon as he positioned himself in front of the shelves, he quickly discovered he had no idea what he was looking at or what he should be grabbing. As he was reading the back of a box that proudly declared "Super Heavy" (Trying to work out why it declared this, the packet was lighter than a deodorant can!) He heard a pained gurgle from further down the aisle, followed by the gasping, hissing of an infected.

Dropping the box back on the shelf, he raised the crowbar to shoulder height as he began looking for the thing making the noise. It didn't take long, but he almost vomited when he saw it - a long streak of blood following what used to be a man that was pulling himself along by just his arms, he legs crooked at such an odd angle it was a wonder they hadn't fallen off yet. It's mouth was gaping grotesquely as it tried to reach for Smee, who, after getting over the initial shock and horror of seeing the thing, smirked to himself.

"You think you stand a chance against me?" He muttered, "Well let me tell you something..." Quick as a flash, he brought the crowbar down and planted it right into the head of the infected, effectively ending whatever attempt of existence it still had left, "you don't." He finished his little quote, chuckling to himself after his successful attack.

Turning back to the shelf, he decided rather than just get one sort of product for the girls, he would grab a couple of each, shoving them into the sack they had fashioned out of a pile of fabric they had found in the building they were holed up in. He dumped in some of the tubes of toothpaste and as many toothbrushes as he could, even dropping in a bunch of kids sized ones for Roland. Grinning at his haul, he looked round the store wondering what else would be useful. Having never taken a lesson in medicine before, though, he had no idea what would be useful and what wouldn't, so he decided to find a toy like he had promised for Roland and then head back to the group.

From what he could see, however, the store really was just a drug store, no toys to be seen. Through the door at the back of the shop, he could spy the edge of what looked like the perfect toy store. He knew Robin had said to stay close enough they would hear him scream if he needed help, but the store opposite had a stuffed fox in the window wearing a little green vest and hat with a red feather and all Smee could think of when he saw it was the delight he knew would be on Roland's face. The toy shop was close, he could see it from the store he was in and he already knew outside was completely silent, not a single sign of a hoard in sight. Plus, having just killed the one infected he had come across, he was feeling extra confident and soon convinced himself he would have failed his mission if he went back to the group without the fox toy.

Half walking, half jogging to the back of the store, he once again checked both up and down the street to make sure there wasn't a single sign of infecteds, not a sight or sound. Having satisfied himself, he took the first step outside, over the broken glass in the doorway and into the new street. Once again, looking all around himself to make sure the coast was completely clear, he trotted over the road and up to the doorway of the toy store. Smiling to the fox as he began pushing the door, he wince as it gave a slightly loud squeak as he forced the rusted hinges to operate and allow him access. Luckily the hinges were rusted enough he could slip in and leave the door as it was so he could exit at a fast pace should the need arise.

He had been planning on taking the fox in the window to make the job more simple, but that one had been in the same window for the 7 months or so since the virus hit, meaning it's fur and clothing were a muted, faded sort of colour as shown against the bright, saturated hues of the toy from the back that had spent 7 months facing away from the light and into the shop. He didn't think the lad would mind too much, but then he saw a sign for the fox further down one of the aisles, knowing there must be an entire collection deeper in the store, he moved forward. It didn't take long to locate the collection and he was even more delighted when he found the fox in the window was actually the smallest version of that particular toy, there was also a medium, large and extra large version, the extra large coming in at almost 50cm tall. Knowing exactly which one he needed to go for, he picked up one of the extra large toys at the front, dropping his crowbar for a moment so he could hold the fox up to his face and admire the present he had found.

He was so in awe of his find, he didn't notice the infected child shuffling towards him and lifting the side of his shirt slightly until it was too late and her teeth had sunk completely into the meaty flesh at the side of his hip.


	9. Chapter 9

_It could hardly be said that Regina Mills was wanting for anything material in her life. Born to the owner of a rich banking firm and his fashion-label-designer of a wife, she spent her days in a huge, million dollar mansion, with luxuries that other people could only ever dream of. Wet nurses, cleaning servants, cooks, butlers, hand maidens, she had someone there for everything. No-one could understand why she was miserable. Then, things got even more ostentatious when her parents finally agreed their marriage was merely a piece of paper, no love was lost between Henry and Cora Mills, and so the two went their separate ways. Suddenly, Regina was pulled on one extravagant holiday after the next, she was showered with the latest technology and fashion icon items at every Christmas and Birthday and was the talk of the celebrity world as she strutted up the red carpets with her mother, looking every inch the mini-me._

 _However, her father, being a little more observant than her mother, soon noticed that no matter what money or expensive item was thrown at her, she never did smile. Eventually, he asked her "What's wrong, honey? What can I do?" to which she replied, "I don't have a single friend in the world! Not even the maids stay around me long anymore, they're too afraid of you and mother! Of course I'm miserable!" So between the two of them, Cora and Henry actually put their heads together and decided to send their darling princess to the finest girls-only boarding school money could buy. But things didn't get any better. Regina spent her days trying to hide from the other girls, who would stick their noses up in the air as if making a poor imitation of Regina, asking snide comments like "Do you use $50 bills to wipe your butt too?" and giggling behind their hands as she tried to join in the physical education lessons._

 _Then, Zelena Mader entered the school. Immediately shunned for being the new girl, Regina and Zelena quickly made friends over their similar names, telling everyone they were long lost sisters who were reunited at the school and delighting in their own little secrets. For probably the first time in her life, Regina felt camaraderie, companionship and contentment. She was soon on the phone to her father during their scheduled monthly phone call, babbling about how "Zelena did this..." and "Zelena did that...", filling every one of her sentences with the presence of the other girl until Henry had to tell her the hour was up and he had to get back to business. She did a similar thing to Cora during their bi-monthly call, but when Cora realised Henry had already had all this news, her mind was filled with competitive thoughts and she quickly invited Zelena over to stay the summer holidays, not to be outdone in parenting._

 _And so, Zelena and Regina rode the train back to Cora Mills' mansion, their excitement almost bursting out of them at the prospect of hours of play time that would not be interrupted by lessons. As they arrived at the house, Regina stepped into the main foyer and immediately dipped into a graceful, low curtsey at the sight of her mother, keeping her eyes downcast respectfully as she had been taught. Zelena, not understanding the show, sauntered past with a casual "Hey, Mrs C." before exclaiming how huge Regina's house was, comparing it to her meagre country home, before racing up the stairs, shoes still strapped to her feet, to look through every room she could find. Regina couldn't help the little snort of laughter, but with her eyes still focused on the plush carpet beneath her, she completely missed the flashing sign of danger in her mother's eyes._

 _As the two girls played together, running through the orchards, diving in the outdoor heated swimming pool and playing make believe with Regina's countless dolls, Cora was researching. She quickly learned that Zelena only went to the same school as her precious daughter because her father was one of the newly appointed professors there. Having lost her mother a number of years back in an aeroplane accident, the father had moved them both to live in one of the houses in the school grounds within the last semester, most of his wages going towards paying for their living accommodations and so leaving Zelena with very little wealth._

 _"That explains the store-bought rags and fake-leather shoes." Cora muttered to herself, a corner of her mouth pulling into a sneer and her eyebrows rising to her hairline in contempt. "Only Henry would have encouraged a friendship with someone so unworthy of our family."_

 _Shaking her head in dismay, she stood and exited her office, inclining her head at one of the serving staff before making her way upstairs to find the girls and perform her motherly duty of kissing them both on the head goodnight. She was surprised when she climbed to the top-most step, however, to hear the girls' excitable squealing and happy voices coming from the right towards her own room, instead of to the left from Regina's. Her shoulders tensing as a bad feeling crept up her spine, she strode towards her own room and burst through the door. There, Regina stood, watching on in delighted but nervous fascination as Zelena gave a fashion show to her friend. Her face slathered in Cora's La Prairie Caviar foundation, the bottle laying just behind, dripping on the carpet, her favourite Guerlain lipstick smeared over the girls lips with the remaining product crushed into the tube and leaving it completely unusable, singing into her favourite Mason Pearson hair brush and in fact all over the room were the remnants of hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of make-up products, smeared, stamped, smashed and destroyed all over her most expensive and beautiful clothing items._

 _Regina's head whipped round at the horrified shriek of her mother, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening as she realised the danger they were in. Quickly rushing forward, she grabbed hold of the brush from Zelena's hand and placed it almost reverently on the end table, stepping forward once again to carefully peel the diamond and gold encrusted false eyelashes from her friend's eyelids to place them gently next to the brush. She tugged on Zelena's hand, pulling her towards her mother and with a jerk of her head, both girls lowered their eyes, their expressions and body language speaking every word of the guilt they felt. The rant that came out of Cora's mouth at the scene shocked both girls, Regina knew it would be one she would remember for the rest of her life, but neither realised just how closely the older woman was watching Zelena, until it was too late. With the intensity of her anger, Zelena's palms had started to become clammy, meaning she lost her hold on the small tube of lipstick she was holding, meaning it slipped from her grip, both girls watching in dread as it rolled across the floor and bumped against Cora's shoe._

 _Cora stopped mid sentence, looking down at the gold packaging of the product, her mind whirring fast with possibilities, reminding both girls of a ticking time bomb. Without another word, she was stomping off towards Regina's bedroom and flinging Zelena's case across the floor. Dior, Guerlain, Christian Louboutin, Chanel, Gucci, Ray Ban, all flew from the case and scattered. When Cora's fire-filled gaze finally found Regina and Zelena, they both knew they were done for. Zelena was immediately sent back to her father, her case emptied and items kept by Cora for sale to make up for the money wasted and Regina was pulled from the school, Cora declaring to Henry that she would find someone to teach the girl from home. A devastated Regina was soon on the phone to her father, begging him to do something. After a whole school year and a summer in the company of friendship, she could not bear the thought of going back to her lonely existence before, telling her father she needed something, anything that would allow her to interact with other people._

 _After much deliberation and bargaining on Regina's part, it was agreed she be allowed to take riding lessons at the local stables. Regina took to the hobby like fish to water and was soon spending the vast majority of her free time at the stables - learning how to look after the animals, how to clean their pens, mix their food, even going so far as to take lessons from the local vet when he would come to treat any ailments. It was during one such visit, when the vet was treating one of the animals for a nasty insect sting that had become infected and Regina was mucking out one of the stables that she first saw him. By this point, Regina had finally turned 18 and managed to impress the whole stable staff by showing that although she was the rich little fashion-designers daughter, with her De Niro riding boots, Kep Cromo glitter helmets and Animo competition riding jackets, she was not afraid to take on the more mundane tasks if it would help her not only with her riding skill but also with the stable itself._

 _The whole staff noticed the way she stopped brushing down her horse and stood, staring with a look of awe at the handsome young man as he strutted down the pass, vets bag slung over his shoulder and hair falling artfully into his eyes._

 _"Daniel." One of the other girls murmured in her ear, making her jump slightly and turn her head slightly so she could hear better. "He's the vets son, usually comes riding on Sundays, between 12 noon and 1pm."_

 _Regina gave a tiny grin, reaching back and grabbing hold of the girl's hand, squeezing every ounce of her gratitude into the gesture, pleased to feel the girl's other hand come down on her shoulder and squeeze right back as though in support. So of course, for the first time, Regina showed up at exactly 12 noon on Sunday, clothes freshly washed and pressed, make up in place, hair swept back into an elegant braid that fell down her shoulder and was met with a pair of lust filled eyes as Daniel took in her appearance, immediately bending down over her hand to kiss the knuckles, before looking back up at her through lashes that should be illegal they were so long and giving a crooked grin so dazzling she could swear her knees had turned to putty. Sunday visits to the stables soon became a regular occurrence for Regina, just as weekday visits became a normal thing for Daniel and the two were soon spiralling in a whirlwind romance so intense, neither were sure they could come out the other end unscathed._

 _They were stood together, one sunny spring afternoon, leaning against a field fence and watching the new filly prance circles around her exasperated mother, laughing their relief after Daniel had helped the mother during a long and difficult birth to success, with both animals ending up completely fine, when a cry was heard from the stables. Regina immediately leaned back so she could see what the commotion was from behind Daniel's back, but didn't have to look long as a pure white mare was racing towards them, a little red face of terror clinging on for dear life behind._

 _Before she even really had time to process what she was seeing, Regina had sprinted over to the next field to their mare and filly, catching the attention of the stallion there, climbed aboard his bare back and was chasing after the mare, Daniel screaming behind her. But she wasn't listening, all she could focus on was the agitated beat of the mare's hooves along the track and the wildly flapping, long locks of black streaming behind the girl as she cried out for help. Digging her heals into the flank of her stallion, Regina coaxed him alongside the mare, shouting for the girl to pass her the reins so she could take control. Less than a minute later, both horses were slowing to a trot, their breathing hard and fast as Daniel pulled up along the other side. Throwing the reins over to him, Regina quickly hooked her hands under the arms of the girl and pulled her over to her own horse, settling her down in front so she could wrap her arms around her securely and whisper comforting words to calm her panicked, gasping breaths._

 _Soon enough, the horses were walking far slower, enough for the girl to feel safe enough to pull back at look at Regina. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daniel give her a wink as he turned his horse round to lead the out of control mare back to the stable._

 _"You saved my life!" The girl gasped, pulling Regina's attention back to her. Regina's worried, brown eyes flickered over every inch of the girl she could see from where she sat before her, trying to assess if she was injured at all._

 _"Are you alright?" She asked her, lifting one hand up to push a lock of raven black hair behind a tiny ear._

 _"Yes, but I'll never go riding again." The girl told her, screwing her eyes up and burying her face in Regina's breast. Regina gently pushed her back, cupping her cheek with her own hand as their stallion pulled to a stop, snuffling noisily at a clump of long grass._

 _"Nonsense!" Regina replied, "The only way to overcome fear is to face it, to get back on that horse as soon as possible."_

 _"Thank you." The girl whispered, her eyes and voice awe filled._

 _"My name's Regina." She informed her new charge, smiling as she once again dug her heals into the stallion's flank, cajoling him into returning back to the stables._

 _"Mary-Margaret Blanchard." The girl replied, returning a grin of her own, causing Regina to laugh._

 _"Well that's quite a mouthful!" She giggled, Mary Margaret chuckling along with her. "I think we need to think of a nickname for you. Let's see..." she tapped a finger on her chin as though in thought, then held it up as an image of the mare came into her mind. "I know! To remind you to face your fears and always fight life's battles head on, I am going to name you after your horse. I think Snow White suits you perfectly."_

 _"Oh no, you can't." Mary Margaret yelped. "You can't name me after my horse, I can't even ride and it will take me months to get that one under control."_

 _"Oh you can't ride, huh?" Regina retorted back, raising an eyebrow and looking round. "Because it looks to me like we just rode all the way back to the stable without you even realising." Snow whipped her head from side to side, her eyes widening in shock and her mouth that had started as a perfect 'oh' of surprise pulled up into a smile. "See? You're a natural!" Regina exclaimed._

 _Once she had helped Snow down from the Stallion, the two wandered over to Daniel who had settled both his own horse and Snow's mare into one of the pens in the stable so she could introduce her. Regina explained Snow's fear to him and he bent his knee down so he was of an eye level with Snow. "Well, Snow," He began, "You can't just jump onto an animal like a horse and expect it to do as you bid right away. Horses are like humans - How would you like it if a stranger off the street came up and started bossing you around, making you do things you wouldn't like to do? You have to get to know your horse before you can start riding her."_

 _"That's right, Snow." Regina added on, also bending her knee so she could join in the conversation. "Horse riding is about far more than simply being able to fit your foot in a stirrup and saying 'Giddy up!'" She reached out and took hold of Snow's hand, brushing a thumb over her knuckles comfortingly as Daniel picked up again._

 _"But it's ok, me and Regina are here now. We can teach you all there is to know about looking after your mare and learning to ride her. Before long, you'll be a champion rider!"_

 _And that's exactly what they did. Regina was delighted in her pupil, looking on with pride as Daniel taught her about how to brush the horse's coat and mix the food, chatting away happily as they worked together to muck out the stall and clean the place up and finally, her and Daniel leaned into one another and beamed as Snow lead her horse round the perimeter of the nursery learner's track, a look of nervous excitement on her face as the mare followed her every command. She thanked her lucky stars every time she announced to her mother she was going to the stables at the look of indifference Cora would shoot her, only allowing to smile her joy after she had left the grounds of the mansion and, slowly but surely, without even realising it, Daniel buried himself within the confines of her heart, making it burst with love and happiness, a feeling that was only exemplified with the addition of Snow. The young girl was so far implanted in Regina's heart, she almost felt like a mother to her, and this sentiment was shared by one of the female staff members who was well known for gossiping, when she explained Snow's father begun to bring her to the stables after her mother died suddenly last year. Regina's heart broke for the sweet girl and she vowed she would never miss the love and affection, nor loyalty and friendship of the mother she lost as she would happily step up to take the woman's place._

 _Early one autumn, Daniel had decided they should visit a nearby orchard that ran 'pick-your-own' days, explaining it would be a nice treat for not only the humans but the animals as well. They spent most of the morning, gathering their harvest to the musical sound of Snow's laughter at the tickling sensation of horse mouths feeding directly from her outstretched hands. Regina kept looking over, a soft, warm smile on her face which Daniel caught on more than one occasion and filled him with longing._

 _"Think you'll have one of your own one day?" He asked her during one such moment, causing her to whirl her head and blush furiously._

 _"Hopefully." She told him, her eyes slight with hope and dreams of the future. Daniel chuckled._

 _"I best be making an honest woman of you soon then!" He replied, climbing back down the ladder he had been picking apples from, adding his latest picks to his basket and wandering over to another tree to reascend, oblivious to the chaos of butterflies he had just left within Regina's belly._

 _Later, as they were reclining on the banks of a nearby river, the girls gossiping as Daniel threw rocks into the water and cased the odd fish, Snow brought those same butterflies back._

 _"When you marry Daniel, can I be a bridesmaid?" Snow asked her, squinting up at the autumn sun that was giving just enough heat to make the most pleasant afternoon._

 _"You mean 'If', of course." Regina corrected, looking over at Snow, who was fast approaching adulthood._

 _"no, I mean 'when'." She retorted, "I have no doubt in my mind that you and Daniel will be married and have the most beautiful babies. I'm going to babysit and be the best Godmother in the world and we'll live nearby one another..."_

 _"Oh really?" Regina laughed. "Sounds like you have my whole life planned out already. You sound like my mother."_

 _"Oh can you imagine though, Regina?" Snow exclaimed, sitting up suddenly and turning her full attention to her friend. "The wedding your mother would throw! You would be the most beautiful blushing bride and people would come from far and wide to celebrate..."_

 _"Woah woah woah there!" Regina cried out, sitting up herself and raising her hands a little. "Snow, whatever happens, you cannot tell my mother about Daniel!"_

 _"Why ever not?" Snow asked, a look of mild horror on her face._

 _"Because there's no way she would approve." Regina sighed. "My mother has it in her mind I'll marry some rich billionaire and live exactly as her and daddy."_

 _"But she's your mother, Regina." Snow reasoned, "I'm sure once she sees how happy you and Daniel are together she would forget all her plans and do everything to make your dream come true."_

 _"She throw me out to the curb and tell me to never come home, more like." Regina told her, laying back to her original position again. "you don't know my mother Snow, not like I do. But I have a plan. I'm slowly gathering up as much money as I can - the money she gives me as my allowance and whatever I can make through the odd few jobs I work. I'm selling a few of my more expensive possessions and once I have enough I shall purchase a house for me and Daniel to live in together without being stuck under her claws, then we'll have a private, small ceremony that only a few of our closest friends know about. That will be our happily ever after."_

 _"But what about your mother?" Snow asked her, her eyes filling with tears. "you have to have your mother there, she's important."_

 _"She's not invited." Regina told her, her tone letting Snow know the discussion was over._

 _The next spring, Regina was entered into a riding competition at her stables and much to her frustration, her mother decided she wanted to come along and watch her daughter compete. As they entered, Snow came running up to Regina, wrapping her arms around her friend and wishing her all the luck in the world. Cora was immediately intrigued._

 _"Who is this, Regina?" She asked, smiling down at the girl who was obviously in her late-teen years._

 _"Mother, this is my close friend, Mary Margaret Blanchard. Snow, this is my mother, Cora Mills." Regina gave the introduction with trepidation, carefully watching the way the two were beaming at one another._

 _"Ms. Mills, it is so wonderful to meet you." Snow said, sticking her hand out for Cora to shake._

 _"Likewise, Miss Blanchard." Cora replied, her eyes never leaving Snow's._

 _"Regina has told me so much about you, I feel like I'm meeting a fairy tale character or something." Snow giggled, not registering the sudden tightening in Cora's jaw._

 _"Oh, only good things, I hope?"_

 _"Of course."_

 _An announcement cut into their conversation, Regina's place in the competition being called to make their way to the stables._

 _"I guess that's my cue to go." Regina informed them both, heaving a great breath in. "I hope you enjoy the show, mother." she said on the exhale._

 _"Don't you worry, darling," Cora called as Regina made her way to the competitors area, "Miss Blanchard here will keep me company, I'm sure."_

 _Cora's reassurance was anything but that to Regina, she couldn't help watching worriedly over her shoulder as she made her way over to the starting area to check her steed and prepare for the first round. Mary Margaret turned to Cora, with a friendly smile on her face gestured to the nearby stands. "Shall we?" and together, the two made their way to the front row so they could watch Regina perform. As the first round began, Snow immediately started cheering for Regina, waving her arms and calling encouragement, grinning the whole time._

 _"Isn't she beautiful out there?" Snow gushed to the woman stood next to her._

 _"You call that beautiful?" Cora scoffed. "She rides like a man." Snow dropped her arms and turned to look at Cora in confusion._

 _"How would you have her ride? She can't ride Side-saddle, she wouldn't be able to control the horse properly and would lose the competition. Besides, astride is way more fun."_

 _"She's a little old to be having fun, and if she can't control the horse riding as a properly lady should she shouldn't have the chance at a win at all." Cora sneered. "Honestly, who is going to marry her if she continues acting like a low born commoner. She needs to start thinking about her future before she becomes an ugly old maid."_

 _"She doesn't need to look for anyone to marry though..." Snow began before realising what she was saying and cutting off abruptly, turning her face slightly to watch Cora from the corner of her eye, nervously waiting to see if she heard._

 _"And why's that, Dear?" Cora asked, still watching her daughter on the track._

 _Snow clamped her lips shut, not daring to make another sound in case Cora interpreted it and guessed at the images running through her head. But at her silence, Cora immediately became suspicious and turned to the young girl, looking down her nose at her with a wary eye._

 _"You know something..." She murmured, "And you're not telling me..." Snow began shaking her head no, hoping Cora would drop the subject. Instead, the older woman grabbed Snow's arm, spun her round to face her and ducked down so she was lower to the ground than Snow._

 _"My darling, the only thing I care about in this entire world is my daughter's happiness," She reasoned benevolently, "I see how close the two of you have become and it makes me so glad to know she has someone to be there for her. I would be myself if it weren't for the fact she has pulled away from me. She barely tells me anything these days - if she's happy, sad, angry, confused, scared... All this poor mother knows is her daughter is pulling away from her. I just want her to find her own happiness. I love her so much but she won't let me help her. Has she said something to you about it? Because I would do anything to make her happy."_

 _"Anything?" Snow whispered, her heart breaking for this woman in front of her and for the relationship she knew Regina was throwing away. She was almost angry with Regina; here her mother stood wanting nothing more than to be close with her daughter once again, to make her happy in a way Snow would never get again and she was throwing it all away... for what, exactly?_

 _"Of course, my Dear!" Cora replied, allowing her eyes to well slightly with unshed tears. "You know, I heard some of the other girls whispering between themselves that you lost your mother at a young age, but that she loved you very much. That must have been so hard."_

 _"It was." Snow choked back on the emotions being invoked._

 _"Well the thing is, thinking about it, we might as well be talking about me and Regina. I don't want us to lose each other. If only I could show her, how I feel. That no matter what, all I want is her happiness..."_

 _"She's in love with Daniel!" Snow suddenly blurted out, interrupting Cora, the emotion so thick in her eyes she didn't see the victorious gleam that sparkled in the older woman's eye. "She was terrified of telling you because he is just the Stable Boy and she thinks you won't think he's good enough for her and want something better for her, but they are so in love! They're going to get a house together and get married. She keeps telling me you can't be in her life because you would disapprove, but you're right! The day my mother died was the worst day of my life, but I can't imagine how much worse it would have been had she still been around and I just couldn't see her."_

 _Regina returned home, staggering under the weight of the trophy she had won that day. Her mother had left early, but she wasn't too concerned, it meant she was left with her love, Daniel, and her darling Snow to celebrate together before she had to go back to being the perfect daughter for Cora. She could hardly keep the smile off her face, walking into the foyer of their mansion and placing the trophy on a nearby end table, looking round to see if Cora was close so she could show off her winnings._

 _The house was dark and quiet, not even a servant scurrying around finishing up jobs._

 _"Mother?" Regina called out hesitantly, unsure what to make of the stillness of the mansion. she noticed the front room to her right had a flickering glow inside, much like that of a candle, so she headed towards that, once again calling "Mother?"_

 _"Come here, Regina." Came the cold, calm, calculated voice of Cora Mills, immediately sending an intense shiver down Regina's spine, causing her to straighten up, shoulders back as she had been taught and posture perfect._

 _Her mother was sitting in a single wing-backed chair, staring at the candle sitting on the table in front of her, a glass of wine being swilled in her hand and her eyes fixated on the candle._

 _"Mother, is everything alright?" Regina's voice quavered as she asked._

 _"no, Dear, it's not." Cora answered, finally tearing her eyes away from the candle before her. "Why don't you sit down? Pour yourself a glass of wine. Join me." Warning bells began chiming louder than the bells of Notre Dame in Regina's head, but she did as heeded, taking another seat opposite her mother and pouring some of the maroon liquid into her own glass._

 _"Mother, what is this about?" She breathed, nervous terror alighting every instinct in her body, telling her to get out while she still could._

 _"I had an interesting chat with your little friend, today," Cora drawled, "She told me all sorts of things about you I had no idea about."_

 _"Things like what?"_

 _"Like Daniel, your plans to move in with him and get married, without my approval, sneaking off behind my back like some common whore."_

 _"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Mother..." Regina tried to placate, but Cora cut her off._

 _"How dare you." Cora spat, her eyes glowing in rage._

 _"You're impossible to talk to, though!" Regina continued, completely ignoring Cora's attempts to stop her. "I want to be with Daniel."_

 _"Uh! You don't know what you want. But I do. I didn't make the sacrifices I did in life to get you to the cusp of greatness so that you could end up the wife of a stable boy."_

 _"It's my life!" Regina exclaimed, abandoning her wine on the table and lurching to her feet, glowering down at her mother, who rose almost regally but filled with furious venom, like a cobra ready to strike._

 _"You foolish girl. It's mine. After what I had to do, the deals I had to make to get us out of poverty, to get us this life, and you just want to toss it away?"_

 _"I LOVE DANIEL." Regina screamed, pausing as she saw the surprise in her mother's face, breathing heavily to try and keep her temper down. "I love him, I do, I really do. I'm sorry, but this is my life, my happiness, and if I want to move in with Daniel and marry him, then with or without your consent, I will damn well do so."_

 _"Get out." Cora growled, slamming her own glass on the table. "Get out of my house, get off my property. You are no daughter of mine. After everything I've done for you? you ungrateful little brat, get out of my life and don't you ever dream of returning. You're so in love with your horse man? So be it, go be his little bitch whore, but when he fills your belly with his babes and leaves you for the next dime-a-dozen tramp he finds on the streets, don't come crying to me. I am done with you."_

 _It wasn't until Regina had fled her mother's house, run right through town and out the other side, until she was stood pounding her fists on Daniel's door that what had just happened finally sunk in. She didn't have the money she needed to start a new life, her mother would most certainly close down her bank account now, all she had brought with her was the clothes on her back. She kept thinking about the betrayal Snow had done to her, how her life was ruined. As she waited for Daniel to answer the door, she began doubting what he would do, trying to rationalise and decide on a course of action when Daniel inevitably kicked her out for no longer being the rich daughter of Cora and Henry Mills but the penniless, homeless, sobbing mess she was now._

 _Obviously, she was completely wrong and the second Daniel took one look at her, she was enveloped in his arms, his strong, sure hands smoothing her hair back from her face, his callused thumbs wiping the tears from her cheeks and his kind mouth making shushing noises as he explained it would all be alright, so long as they were together, nothing could pull them down._

 _Regina and Daniel both announced to the stables they were leaving the next day, Regina not wanting to spend one second in the place for fear she would run into Snow and do something she might regret later. They moved to a tiny apartment in the middle of the city, Daniel was quickly snatched up by the local veterinary surgery while Regina began working in City Hall, doing very basic tasks as she joined the local collage to study politics and business studies. Her wardrobe of Versace, Burberry, Chanel and Prada shifted to Walmart, Forever 21 and whatever she could afford from thrift stores, her makeup collection from Dior, Guerlain and YSL became NYX, ELF and Physicians Formula. Her hobbies were no longer horse riding, cross stitching and attending fashion shows, but were instead cooking, reading and trying to find ways of incorporating her old hobbies into ways to maintain their home._

 _From the outside, many would have said Regina Mills took a huge step back in life when she left her mother to live with Daniel, but what those people did not realise is that she was experiencing something brand new and different, something she had never experienced before. She was purely, completely, and utterly content. She had bouts of joy and happiness, but never had a single bad day. True the first few times she tried to cook the pans had come off the stove more black than they were going on and the food was completely inedible, but Daniel's good natured self and kind heart just laughed away the bad feelings and told her never mind, next time will be perfect. He made her want to strive to better herself, to really try and accomplish her goals without ever making her feel like a failure when things didn't go her way._

 _And then the world ended._

 _Regina was spending her day tackling as much of their ironing pile as she possibly could - something she had got very good at in her 3 years of living with Daniel and something she could practically do on autopilot as she watched the TV. Once again, the screen was bloated with pictures of the dead walking through the streets, of rotten teeth sinking into red flesh, of scientists trying to give advice on the best way to survive the apocalypse, explaining exactly what was happening in the best terms they could and warning people of the symptoms of the apocalyptic virus._

 _"What has the world come to?" Regina murmured to herself, folding another shirt neatly and adding it to her ever growing 'done' pile, when she heard a key turn in the lock and the door open._

 _"Honey, I'm home!" Daniel called out to her, shutting the door behind him, dumping a brown paper bag of groceries on the table and striding over to plant a great big kiss on her cheek._

 _"Welcome home, sweetie. Did you have a good day at work?" She asked him, her joy shining through her features at having her love back home as she pulled another shirt from the hamper, shook it out and placed it on the board._

 _"Willis is showing flu-like symptoms." Daniel informed her, pulling the door of their tiny, ancient refrigerator open to begin putting away groceries. "I'm pretty sure he's clean and it's just the actual flu, but he's banned from coming back into work until his fever has died down."_

 _"Good! I'm glad to hear the higher ups are taking this seriously." Regina replied, running the hot iron over the shirt._

 _"Yeah great, we're down another vet and people are bringing in more and more strays who simply have to be saved." He scoffed back sarcastically, shaking his head at the injustices of the world._

 _At that moment, there was a crash from outside their apartment. Daniel stood up to his full height quickly, turning his face to Regina even as his body was angled towards the door, Regina automatically twisting the dial on her iron to turn it to a low setting as she watched the door, preparing in case she needed to do anything as a result of the crash._

 _"What was that?" She hissed, watching Daniel flail his hands at her for a second before understanding what he was saying, reaching for the remote and turning the television off, just as a list of the newly infected towns and cities flashed on the screen, neither of them seeing their own province appear before the screen went black. With the silence in the apartment, they could both hear quiet, bumbling sounds, almost like drunken footsteps outside their door. Daniel crept forward, keeping one hand out to Regina, signalling for her to stay where she was and to not move, before slowing leaning forward and peering through the peep hole in the door. But his head jerked back, his brows furrowing in confusion as he turned to Regina._

 _"Regina it's... it's your mother." He informed her, turning to let her see the full force of his confusion._

 _What happened next almost occurred in slow motion for Regina. She heard Daniel say "Better let her in, I guess..." almost as if he was speaking from the end of a long tunnel, her heart rate accelerating as his hand reached for the door handle. She heard herself shout "Daniel, don't!" as he pressed the handle down, opening the door to permit Cora Mills inside._

 _Or the thing that had once upon a time been Cora Mills._

 _Before she could process what was happening, the thing wearing her mother's body had launched itself at Daniel, hands held like claws and sinking into the flesh of his arms as her teeth disappearing into the red mess she had made of his neck. Regina screamed, high pitched and terror filled as she watched Daniel's eyes become consumed by sheer agony, then dull to a lifeless nothing as the force of Cora's bites broke his neck, killing him._

 _Regina couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All she could do was watch in horror as her hated mother devoured her one true love right in their own living room._

 _An almighty boom shook the air, rattled the glass in the windows behind her and suddenly, Cora's head was sporting a great, red, bloody hole, in one end and out the other, bits of skull and brain fragments flying to the walls, carpet, everywhere nearby._

 _Regina turned to the doorway to find out what had happened, when the emerald green eyes of none other than Snow White appeared under a short, almost boyish hair style, pleading with her to listen._

 _"Regina, we have to go! Now!" Snow demanded, holding out a hand for Regina to take._

 _"But... Daniel." Regina somehow stammered around her heart beating hard and fast in her throat._

 _"There's nothing we can do for him now." Snow barked back. "We have to go before it's too late. They're trying to take over the building and if they do, we're all goners."_

 _"But... he..." Regina couldn't understand. Other than the wound in his neck, Daniel looked fine. Yes his eyes were a bit glassy, but only like they were when he'd had too much to drink, he was laid in a funny way that she was sure would give him a crick in the neck when he woke up, and his hand was still outstretched to her. All she had to do was take it and he would wake up, laugh, apologise for scaring her and they would be on their way._

 _Another almighty boom ripped through the air and the space between Daniel's eyes became a huge, gaping hole, almost identical to the one in Cora's head._

 _"REGINA, NOW." Snow roared, rushing forward and yanking Regina's hand._

 _Stepping over the bodies of her mother and lover, Regina grasped Snow's hand and allowed herself to be tugged from the room, down the hall way, weaving through men, women and children alike, stumbling down the stairs and out into the bright, evening light._


End file.
